Beg For You
by Cpher
Summary: They were one of the hottest tag teams, but they never knew teaming up with a woman would throw them into a family feud with devastating consequences. Edge, Christian, Trish Stratus, Chris Jericho, Eric Bischoff, OC. Based in 2002.
1. Chapter 1

Title - Beg For You  
Author - Callaphera  
Rating - R for language, adult situations and language  
Disclaimer - I own all original characters. Recognized characters are owned by the WW(F)E. Don't steal, don't sue.  
Author's Note - The story takes place in 2002. Enjoy and lemme know what you think!

_Lyrics are from David Draiman of Disturbed/KoRn's "Forsaken", found on the Queen of the Damned soundtrack._

* * *

  
Three Years Ago

They were three.

They had been heading to the ring, when the eerie music was cut off from the loudspeakers, and the arena plunged into darkness. The crowd immediately stopped their cheering and adoration for the trio, and began to buzz amongst themselves, trying to figure out just what the hell was happening. The tallest of the three cocked his head to one side, blocking out the sound of the audience, but there were no footsteps coming down the metal ramp towards them, no surprise attack. Instead, a new song began to play, before it cut off abruptly.

_I'm over it  
__You see I'm falling in the vast abyss  
__Clouded by memories of the past  
__At last I see_

And then came the laugh that no one stopped talking about until the next time they heard it. It was cold, a chuckle more than anything. A female chuckle, but one unlike anything they had heard before. The youngest of the three felt goose bumps erupt on his skin when he heard the laugh.

And like nothing ever happened, the lights came back, and their entrance music came back.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully.

* * *

It was four months before anything of the sort happened again. By then, the trio had become two, and the third person of their group had just disappeared. It was time for them to make their own way in the business. They were young, they were hungry, and they had their eyes on the gold that would proclaim them to be the best tag team in the Federation. If they won this match, they would face the champions at the next show.

But things weren't going their way, and the younger brother was left crumpled in a corner, obviously in pain and unable to help as his older brother was about to get double-teamed.

And the lights died again. And the music started again.

_I hear it fading, I can't speak it  
__Or else you will dig my grave  
__You feel them finding, always whining  
__Take my hand, now be alive_

He stood there, completely still in the darkness and he thought he felt something or someone brush by him, and the sound of leather rubbing against leather. The mat shifted under his feet, and he heard a few thumps against it, before there were two low groans. As the music faded away, the lights came back on, and he saw her standing at the top of the ramp, meeting his eyes with a calm look that would become her trademark as much as her smirk.

She was of average height, dressed in black leather from head to toe, including the mask that covered part of her face, the bridge of her nose, and extended to stiff points down her cheeks. Blonde hair, an almost golden color, was swept behind her shoulders as she raised a hand and elegantly motioned to his feet. Laying there were the two wrestlers they had been facing. His younger brother rose slowly in the corner, holding onto the ropes to help him up.

The taller man nodded to her and lowered himself, hooking the leg of the legal man in the match, his eyes remaining on her as the three count sounded against the mat. And the female chuckle sounded again, not from her, but again over the loudspeakers in the arena. She nodded slightly to him before facing his younger brother, and bending at the waist suddenly, bowing to him. She straightened up and pushed her hair back over her shoulders before turning on her heel and disappearing behind the black curtain that separated the crowd from backstage.

Immediately, not waiting for the referee to raise their hands and signify the win, they slipped out of the ring and ran up the ramp after her, their feet pounding on the metal, their aches and pains momentarily forgotten. His brother had nudged him when he had seen a flash of black and blonde disappear around a corner, but when they got there, there was no one around. Hell, the younger of the duo had been an all-star in track back in high school, and he couldn't seem to keep up with her.

They never did try looking behind any of the closed doors. In particular, the one that was locked and hiding a blonde woman, dressed in black leather, with her hand on her knees as she fought to regain her breath from the quick sprint, a bright grin on her face.

* * *

  
Two Years Ago

One day, she slipped through the crowd and was standing at the older brother's elbow, pounding her hand on the mat to encourage the smaller man in his one-on-one match. They both had to admit that they liked her standing there, since it evened up the odds. They had just started a feud with the Hardy brothers, who had a valet of their own, a fiery redhead known as Lita. She hadn't interfered, and neither had the other woman, as they sent each other cold looks across the ring. The message was loud and clear to the redhead: Mess with mine, and I'll come after you. The win for the younger brother had been clean, and she had immediately slipped into the ring and glared down the referee, something that would soon become routine, as she grasped his wrist with her cool fingers, raising his hand to the crowd on both sides of the arena.

After that, she met them near the curtain before their matches, accompanying them out to the ring from then on. She never spoke to them, and they never knew her name. The small blonde ring announcer, Lilian Garcia, made things easy on all the announcers and commentators one night, when she saw the blonde woman standing between the brothers at the top of the ramp. "And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by their valet..." She became known as their valet, no proper name. When she wrestled, she became the blonde. Even upper management had no idea what to call her.

And she did wrestle from time to time, and one or both of the brothers would stand in her corner, more for support and encouragement than to help her. The women of the company had thought that she might be easy prey, and it seemed like everyone wanted to challenge her. The matches she had against Terri were entertaining, but certainly not what anyone would call wrestling. When challenged by the company's premiere female wrestler at the time, Ivory, the blonde woman had been completely decimated. Lita figured she wouldn't even be a challenge, and went out to the ring one night, asking the woman to meet her in the ring. The blonde appeared at the top of the ramp, and she nodded her assent before racing down the ramp and sliding into the ring.

By the middle of the match, both tag teams were standing in their own corners, cheering on their women. Surprisingly, the blonde woman put up a damned good fight, managing to keep the daredevil Lita on the mat, rather than letting her take to the top rope and flying, like she was known for. Finally, after the women had been pulled apart by the referee and pushed into separate corners, the blonde pointed to the redhead and smirked, motioning for the redhead to attack her. She did so, giving the blonde a good fight, before the woman pushed her away. The taller of the brothers was about to slide in the ring and give her a hand when she suddenly turned to look at him, her glare ice cold. He understood the message and went back into his corner, encouraging her instead. Not that she needed much. The tentative valet turned into a practiced wrestler right before their eyes. After performing what looked to be a textbook DDT on the redhead, she took to the top rope and performed the move that would be her finishing move for the rest of her career: a four-fifty splash. The blonde got the win.

Their match had been almost immediately after, and no one was surprised when their valet didn't accompany them to the ring; she had just put up a hell of a fight, taken a hell of a beating, and probably needed a rest. They won their match, but when they got back to their locker room, she had disappeared, and there was a note pinned to the outside of the older brother's bag.

_Never let me see you attack a woman, unless in self-defense. This is non-negotiable. If I do see you purposely try to hurt any of the women, I will no longer walk out with you._

The note had been written in block printing, but the name scrawled at the bottom was definitely written by a female, a beautiful and slanting script, with a flourish beneath it. They finally had a name for her. They assumed, and assumed rightly, that it was short for Mystery.

Her name was Myst.

* * *

  
One Year Ago

They shared a locker room. They booked their hotel rooms beside each other. They shared rental cars. The trio was almost inseparable, and the men weren't about to give away the blonde's identity, not that they knew it themselves.

Two years after the first time they saw her standing on the ramp, she was on their doorstep, bags in hand, suitcase behind her. She had been without her mask for the first time, and not dressed in her typical all black ensemble. She had simply smiled tentatively as the younger brother opened the front door of their Tampa, Florida home, blinking in surprise at the woman standing on the door step. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she wore glasses and loose-fitting clothes, a completely different look for the cold beauty that walked out with them night after night. "I'm sorry; I have nowhere else to go," she had said. Within ten minutes, they had her bags in the larger of the two guest bedrooms, and it was hers from then on. They never asked, never pushed, just accepted her into their daily lives.

But the mask never came off outside the arena, and she never spoke a word to anyone, let alone them. From time to time, they joined up with someone else for a six man tag match, and she looked at their partners with that calm stare that unnerved most people. Only one withstood it and returned it, but she never associated with Chris Jericho when they did. She preferred to be alone, or with the brothers. They never saw her with anyone else.

She stood with them while they won the tag team championship belts, letting her cool expression slip for the first time as she threw her arms around the sweaty brothers, one at a time, and whispered her congratulations so low in their ears that they barely caught them. They stood with her when she won the women's title, and raised her hands, one on either side, with the gold belt draped over her shoulder.

They looked unbeatable, unbreakable.

Appearances can be deceiving.

* * *

  
Five Months Ago

The two men had watched the monitor in their dressing room, their fingers crossed, holding their breath as they watched their own slip into the ring without any fanfare, a simple nod to each side of the crowd to let them know that she appreciated their response to her. For a moment, the camera had focused on her, standing alone in the middle of the ring, her legs spread apart and knees bent as she waited for her opponent to come meet her.

Then the lights had changed, the camera moved away from her to the ramp, and the breathy, hard rock music died, being replaced by something more generic that immediately caused the crowd to jeer and boo at the redhead that appeared, glaring at the blonde. This was a rivalry long in the making, just as long as the two tag teams that they represented had feuded. And that night, the vacated women's title belt was held above the ring on a wire loop, glinting in the light. This fight meant so much more.

The match had been fast paced, just the way both women liked it. They were equally matched in their strengths and abilities, both preferring to take to the top rope or turnbuckle every now and then, flying through the air. The fans were kept on the edges of their seats, and the two men in the back would occasionally share looks, sometimes triumphant, sometimes worried, as the two women rolled around and bounced off the canvas. The only thing that placated the two was the fact that there could be no outside interference. Both tag teams had been banned from ringside, as had the entire backstage, just to make it a fair match.

Five minutes into the fight, the ladder came out, Lita setting it up under the raised belt, positioning it just right as the fans were on their feet, screaming obscenities at her. There was no doubt as to who the favorite in the match was. Myst was lying off to one side in the ring, a hand draped loosely over her ribs as she recovered from the breath-taking moonsault she had been forced to take. But before the redhead could make her way up the ladder, the blonde dove at the bottom of it, knocking it to the side and watching with satisfaction as the ladder itself bounced off the top rope, Lita spilling out onto the floor outside the ring. Unfortunately, the blonde had misjudged, and the ladder tipped back in her direction. She had tried to scramble out of the way, but didn't manage to pull her foot away in time, the ladder landing on the back of her ankle. She let out a scream of pain and dropped heavily back to the canvas, breathing heavily; the ladder had landed on the same ankle that Lita had been working on earlier in the match. It was well known that the blonde had ankle problems from time to time.

Once she got her breath back, she pushed the ladder off of her ankle and stood up, seeming to favor the other leg. She pushed and pulled the ladder until it was in the perfect position, climbing it with both eyes on the title belt. Lita had started to stir on the outside and began to pull herself back into the ring. Once Myst had reached the top of the ladder, she let go of the breath she was holding and unsnapped the belt, holding it loosely in one hand.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the match, and the crowd was on its feet, cheering loudly, almost drowning out the tiny blonde ring announcer. "Your winner, and _new_ WWE Women's Champion...Myst!" The breathy music started once again.

With a roar, the redhead crashed into the ladder, knocking it out of place, hoping to knock down the blonde. Barely in the nick of time, Myst had wrapped her arm through the wire loop and dangled above the redhead, pulling her knees towards her chest, in order to take away the area of her body that Lita tried to get her hands on. The new champion had simply looked down at her with the unnerving calm that she was known for, despite the fact that she had been worked over well during the match. The referee began to try and force Lita out of the way so they could set the ladder back up, when Myst simply let go of the wire loop, landing as gracefully as a cat on both of her feet, before her ankle buckled, and she rolled to one side, her nonplussed expression changing to one of pain.

The tag team hadn't had a chance to check on their valet; their match had been coming up soon, after the ring would be cleared of the debris from the upcoming hardcore match. She had called them from their hotel room before their match had started, informing them that she was flying home, with her title belt, to rest her ankle, with the grudgingly given permission of the company. The men had congratulated her, made sure that she really was okay, and accepted her wishes of luck in her soft, low voice.

They won that night.

* * *

  
Three Nights Ago

Things had gone so well. They had been standing there, her in the center of them after she had glared down the referee. Sure, the brothers were a little worse for wear, but they could still stand, and in their hands were the gleaming gold belts they had just won back. And she had her hands on their other wrists, lifting them into the air. She looked at the taller of the two first, and although her characteristic smirk was firmly in place beneath the black leather of her mask, he saw the twinkling glee in her eyes that was silently congratulating him on a job well done. Her head turned, hair falling over one eye as she looked at the younger, shorter man, and she winked this time, causing him to break out into a grin, despite the pain from his ribs.

Their music cut off abruptly and her brow had furrowed before their eyes, before different music began, the woman between them cursing suddenly. Moving as quickly as they could, what with being hurt and exhausted from their title match, they ushered Myst out of the ring, while all three sets of eyes remained on the ramp, waiting for them to come out.

But Team Xtreme surprised them from behind, running through the crowd and jumping over the barricade. Within seconds, the three of them slid into the ring and attacked. The younger of the brothers hissed in pain as he was knocked down, his fall broken by something soft. A mass of blonde hair, definitely belonging to their valet and not his older brother, filled his eyes as he realized just what he had landed on. He heard her exhale loudly and then struggle to breathe in again, as he was unceremoniously yanked from atop her body, right where he had planned to stay in order to protect her. Lita grabbed onto the blonde, forcing her onto her knees, one arm around her neck in a modified sleeper hold, the other wrapped in the woman's hair, pulling her head up as she struggled to breathe. She held her there, forcing her to watch as both brothers were given a hell of a beating at the hands of Matt and Jeff Hardy.

When it seemed like the brothers could take no more, they were also put into modified sleeper holds, both of their heads being forced up as the crowd booed and jeered at what they were seeing. Lita pulled the blonde into the centre of the ring and lifted her body up and over in a suplex, letting the woman fall into the mat from a decent height. The ring shuddered as she rolled over onto her side, pulling her knees up in an attempt to protect herself from the blows she knew the redhead was about to rain on her. But instead, hands picked her up again and this time, it was a mighty DDT that forced her head into the mat and made her see stars. The younger brother yelled out her name, trying to fight away from Matt Hardy, who was holding him in place and laughing, forcing him to watch as Lita finally put the boots to Myst, the valet's body convulsing with each kick. The fans were outraged now, and the referee went back into the ring, trying to pull the redhead away, only to be tossed through the ropes to the outside. Lita kicked the blonde one final time, this time in the head, causing her to cry out and bring her hands up to her forehead.

She slid out of the ring and marched over to the announce tables, pushing the timekeeper from his seat before taking his metal folding chair and snapping it shut, sliding back into the ring. The blonde haired valet had struggled to her feet and attempted to launch herself at Matt Hardy in an attempt to get him off of her friend. Lita only laughed and grabbed the weakened woman by her hair one handed, throwing her back into the center of the ring. Myst wrapped her arms around her head and rolled to her side in order to protect her head when she saw the steel chair.

The first hit knocked the breath out of her again. She was gasping when the second hit came. The third, which used the edge of the chair against her ankle, was unexpected. Long ago, when the three had started working together, the eldest brother had told her to always look for an opponent's weakness and use it to her advantage. It seemed that the enemy also understood that rule and was putting it into effect. She had just come back after a broken ankle caused in a match between her and Lita. Now, it seemed that she was out to break it.

The blonde woman screamed in pain, the few features that weren't hidden by her leather mask contorted in pain. Both brothers were forced to watch as she made eye contact with them, her eyes filled with tears as the chair came down again and slammed into her ankle, making her scream again, taking her hands away from her head and reaching out to them as if they could try to help her. Lita took advantage of the situation and slammed the chair down so hard on the woman's head that it dented the chair. Mercifully, she was knocked unconscious. Lita continued to work on her ankle while she was out, as the Hardys decided to play with their captives a little while longer.

Two minutes later, all three of them were laying in the ring, the brothers barely conscious, the woman still knocked out. The older brother stirred and pulled himself across the canvas until he could touch the blonde woman's wrist, tapping it, saying her name. The younger one started to move as well, sliding on his knees towards her, and placing his palm on her cheek, wiping away a trickle of blood from a cut above her eyebrow. Another referee started down the ramp at full speed, and he raised his head, blue eyes blazing. "Get the paramedics!" he roared, watching as the referee made an about face and ran again.

The woman didn't wake up until they were in the hospital.

* * *

  
Present Day

With a groan, Christian opened his eyes and rubbed them with his fists, as if he could wipe the image away. The past two nights of sleep had all been the same way, with him waking up in the middle of the night after reliving the beatdown the three of them had received at the latest pay-per-view. He sat up in bed, letting the blankets fall down to his waist as he reached for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on. He gave himself a moment to adjust to the addition of the light in the room, before taking a sip of warm water from the glass beside his alarm clock.

A shuffling noise sounded from the hallway, pausing in front of his closed bedroom door, and his lips twitched into a bit of a smile as the door opened slowly, and the woman poked her head in. "What are you still doing up?" she asked softly, smiling back at him when she opened the door further at his motion and hobbled into the room, closing it behind her.

"Can't sleep," he told her simply, shrugging his shoulders. He motioned to her again and she pushed her hair out of her face before shuffling towards the bed, climbing on and up towards the pillows beside him. "What about you?"

She made a face as she lay back on the pillows, looking up to his ceiling. "My ankle is killing me."

He turned onto his side, propped up on his elbow as he examined her closely. The bruise on her forehead was beginning to fade, but the cut in the centre of the mark looked as ugly as ever. Other bruises marred her bare arms, making her golden Florida tan less apparent. He knew that there was an even larger bruise on her back, that her tee shirt was hiding, and worst of all, her right ankle was wrapped into a Tensor bandage again, her foot and toes puffy and slightly discolored. Sighing, he flipped onto his back again and turned off the lamp, enveloping them in the dark. He reached for her, tucking his head against his shoulder and in his neck, leaning his head to rest against the top of hers. She responded by wrapping an arm around his, resting her hand on his wrist.

It was so rare that she actually allowed one of them to touch her outside the ring, despite the fact that they had known her for three years now. For the past year, she had lived with them, not saying much, just enjoying their company. They had yet to learn her real name, or why she concealed herself with the mask, or why she had nowhere else to go.

He sighed again and kissed the top of her head, feeling her snuggle into his arms, turning onto her side and burying her face against him. He froze when he heard her sniffle, the shoulder of his tee shirt dampening against his skin. "I'm sorry, but...it just hurts so much," she whispered, her body shaking as she tried to hold in her tears. He ran his hand over her hair and across her shoulders, not wanting to venture further and accidentally brush against the bruise on her back.

This was another first for Christian. He had never seen her cry. The last time her ankle had been injured, she had simply grit her teeth and dealt with the pain. It hadn't been a pretty sight, watching the look on her face when they set her ankle before they had applied the cast, but she had withstood the pain better than some of the tougher men in the company. Oh, he was sure that she had crawled into bed that night and cried. In fact, he was damned sure of it, because his bedroom was across the hallway from hers and he had heard it, but she had always refused to cry in front of either him or his brother. "I know, baby. I wish there was something that I could do..." He trailed off, and kissed her again, as she snuggled closer to him, taking a deep breath.

"What's your full name?" she asked suddenly, before raising her head somewhat to look at him. With a shrug, she gave him a tiny bit of a smile. "I've always wondered, and right now...I'd probably just feel better if we talked or something. I don't like the silence."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully at that line. She didn't like the silence? She didn't talk to them for two years. Not a word passed her lips until exactly two years to the day they were first face to face. In fact, she had never been a big talker, and he would have been surprised if she had ever raised her voice to either of them. "My full...oh," he said softly, chuckling a bit as he settled her back against his neck, moving the tee shirt a bit so that she wouldn't have to lay down in the wet spot she had created. "Christian Cage Copeland."

"Weird."

He smiled into the darkness. "Yeah, Mom was pretty original with her names. Of course, Edge's first name isn't Edge. It's his middle name. His first name is Adam. We both got normal first names and kind of weird middle names." Christian sighed suddenly, running his hand through her hair again, working on a knot in the back. "What about you? I know that your first name can't be Myst. That's just...beyond weird. That's beyond Edge, for Christ's sake."

Now she laughed slightly, pulling away from his neck as she did so. The sound of tears had finally left her voice. "It's Shea. Um, Shea Beatrice, actually. My middle name is from an aunt or something. I don't know, I never particularly liked it."

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark again, he pulled away from her a bit, watching as she settled down on the pillow beside him. His eyes roamed her face and hair for a moment, before he cocked his head to one side. "I just...I can't see you as a Shea, really. I guess just because I've always known you as Myst. I always wondered why you never told us your real name, though. I mean, I get that you value your privacy and all. But at first, it was kind of awkward. For a full year, they didn't know how to announce you."

She laughed again. "Poor Lilian. She tried so hard to get my name out of me, or even get me to talk. She really is a nice woman. She'll understand one day. Everyone will." Now she raised herself up on her elbow to match his height, looking into his blue eyes. "Christian, I have my reasons for everything that I do. I had my reasons for not giving my real name, I have my reasons for wearing my mask, and I have my reasons as to why I chose you and Edge." Her face broke into a full fledged grin then, her eyes crinkling into slits as her cheeks rose up. "Don't look so surprised. I chose you two after a long study. And I made the right choice. You two are the best things that have happened to me since...oh, since I was born, really. But you have to understand something. I won't always be there with you. There's a time, and it's coming soon, where the three of us are going to go our separate ways."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Would you believe me if I said that I wasn't in love with wrestling until I spent a good year and a bit with you two? Because I wasn't. It wasn't something that I ever wanted to do, that I ever dreamed doing. I can't ever remember wanting to be a part of this business. But I made a promise and I kept it, and now I'm here. Look, it's been a blast for me. And I love you two with all my heart, but if I had had my choice? I would have been in practice by now, not just wasting away all those years on my degree. I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Not the WWE Women's Champion. Not the valet and partner of the WWE Tag Team Champions. I wanted to be normal, every day Shea helping kids like me." She let her gaze fall back down to the blankets that covered him and that she was laying on top of. "Look, I'm sorry if I misled you. But I've heard rumors lately, and it sounds like a debt I owe is going to need to be paid. And I realize that I'm not making any sense. Maybe that painkiller is finally kicking in."

Christian frowned, reaching a hand forward to tuck her long blonde hair behind her ear. "I didn't think the doctor's gave you any in the hospital."

"They didn't." Shea grinned at him suddenly and wormed her way under the covers, settling herself against the pillow. "Your darling older brother gave me one when he saw that I couldn't sleep. Well, he gave me a handful, really. I just took the second one before coming to see you." Her smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared and she reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. "I don't think I'm gonna be here much longer, so do you mind if I...you know..."

His answer was to lie back against his pillows and reach for her again, listening as she sighed once she settled herself against his broad shoulder again, not releasing her hold on his hand. No, he didn't mind in the least.

* * *

At Edge's insistence, her foot was propped up on the table, a throw pillow under her ankle as she relaxed against the back of the couch, reaching for the bowl of popcorn that he handed her. "You know, this is happening far too often." 

"Popcorn?" the tall blond man asked, before climbing onto the seat beside her, putting his own feet on the table, a can of soda in one hand.

"No. Us watching RAW from the comfort of our own couch," she told him dryly, before throwing a kernel of popcorn in her mouth. He snickered and leaned forward, shouting for his younger brother, causing her to jump. With a smirk and a wink, he settled back in his seat, watching as she shook her head. Christian appeared seconds later, his arms full with the mass of black and white fur that they jokingly referred to as their team mascot, the five year old cat named Oreo that they had picked out at the pound. He let the cat drop back onto the floor with a thump and a shake of the tail, before settling itself directly under Edge's legs.

"I swear, the damned cat is a masochist," he grumbled, staring down the yellow eyes that turned in his direction. "Yes, I'm talking about you, you big waste of a fur ball."

Christian smirked as he sat on the other side of Shea, reaching for a handful of popcorn once he brushed the loose cat hair off of himself. "And yet, who is the one that keeps their bedroom door open until the cat decides to settle in for the night with him? No, it wouldn't be you."

Although all three of them would have preferred to be at the show, performing for the crowd and defending their titles, they were at least somewhat mollified as they watched the show take place on the wide screen television set. Watching the show, as Shea had learned during her last ankle injury, was somewhat amusing, especially with the personality differences in the two brothers. Christian had more of an inclination to grumble and mutter at the people he didn't like, nodding his head and smirking when something went the way they liked. Edge, on the other hand...well, Edge acted like a true fan of the WWE. He tossed handfuls of popcorn at the television screen at anyone he didn't like, made comments that the other two blushed at during a bra and panties match, and went as far as throwing his empty soda can when the Hardys and Lita were shown, especially when Lita made a promise to unmask the women's champion, Myst. "Oh, please," Shea had said, rolling her eyes. The black leather mask was something that was often discussed backstage, since it seemed like no one could possibly untie and take it off the woman. No one was quite sure what type of knot she used on it to keep it in place, but so far, anyone who tried met failure and usually a boot to the face for their efforts.

But it was the end of the show that made them all stare at the television screen, not really able to comprehend what was happening. Shea's cell phone had given its usual double chirp, letting them know that someone was calling her. Edge narrowed his eyes as he handed it over to her from the coffee table. From time to time, she would receive a phone call from someone who wasn't in her phone's directory, therefore not giving them a name, and she always went into another room to speak to them. This time, most likely due to her ankle, she stayed sitting between the two, talking during the last commercial break. "Hey," she said, listening to the other person for a moment. "Yeah, no. It's fine; it's not sprained or anything. The doctor said that two weeks of rest should do it, and I'll be back to one hundred percent."

Edge looked over at his brother above the woman's head, giving him a raised eyebrow at the tone of voice Shea used. They were both used to hearing that low voice, damned near a whisper, coming from her, that hearing her sound cheerful as she chatted with the other person was just strange. She and her mystery caller continued to catch up while the show came back on the air. Finally, it was Christian poking her in the arm that made her quiet down and look up at the screen.

Just in time to see Vince McMahon welcome Eric Bischoff onto the stage and hug him.

His enemy. Actually put his arms around him and hug him.

"Holy fucking hell," she whispered, while Edge shouted something similar. "Yeah, no. I just saw-" She broke off and nodded a few times. Even though the show was over, she couldn't take her eyes away from the screen. "No, I completely understand. You're right; it's time. Did you want to start setting it up for me? I appreciate it." She laughed suddenly, harshly, causing both men to look at her funny. "I appreciate it, I really do. I guess I'll see you soon. Yeah, take care."

Shea closed her phone and then her eyes, bringing a hand up to massage her brow, as if a sudden headache had settled in. Finally, she opened them and looked from brother to brother. "Uh...guys? I think we'd better talk."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

She crept into the darkened room, closing the door carefully behind her. Once her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she tiptoed towards the bed, leaping nimbly over the cat that purred at her presence. Shea stopped for a moment and bent down to rub the outstretched head, wondering why the cat hadn't bunked down with Edge that night, and then remembering that the tall Canadian had gone to bed early that night, while she was on the phone with the last person she had ever wanted to talk to. Now, two hours later and somewhat upset, she made her way over to the bed and bent down near the dark figure huddled beneath the blankets.

A sigh sounded from her as she crossed her arms on the mattress, watching the man's back rise and fall with his gentle breathing. She leaned her head down on her arms and blinked back the tears she had been fighting off for the evening. After thirty seconds, she knew it was no good: the tears started to drip off her face onto the blankets on the bed. "Oh God," she whispered to herself brokenly. "I wish I didn't have to leave you."

"Then don't," came the equally quiet reply, as a hand rested on the back of her head for a moment. She stiffened in surprise. "Sorry, that damned cat is as loud as a lawn mower when he gets that purr going." Leaving the woman crouched down, he removed his hand for a moment, shifting on the bed to press a kiss against her blonde hair, before getting out of the bed on the other side. "C'mon, Oreo. I'm not staying up half the night, listening to your impression of a weedwacker. Out you go," Christian said as he opened the door, giving the cat a look. The cat raised itself onto its four paws before stretching upward and sauntering past him, head raised. He closed the door behind him and then walked back to the bed, climbing back under the warmth of the covers.

By then, Shea had raised her head and wiped away the few lingering tears, looking towards him. In the near darkness, she saw him smile and gesture, and she climbed up on the bed and over his legs before settling herself on the other pillow, as he held the blankets for her. She shivered and moved towards him, resting a hand on his bare chest. "I didn't mean for either of us to wake you up. I just...I got off the phone finally and I was just planning on peeking in on you to see whether or not you were asleep. Your brother is."

"Well, Edge can sleep through a hurricane. And he's proved it before," Christian said with a sigh, rubbing his hand up and down her back. "Do you...do you want to talk about the calls? I know that you wanted to talk to us earlier, but-"

"But everyone in the world is trying to get a hold of me now. I finally gave up and just turned the damned thing off. So not looking towards the voice mails in the morning," she whispered, moving so that her head was lying on his broad shoulder. He continued to rub her back, taking care not to touch the bruise that was still fading. "I don't want to think about what I'm going to end up doing, let alone talk about it."

"Sorry," he whispered back, closing his eyes for a moment when she shifted under his hand. He moved it to the nape of her neck and pushed her hair out of the way before resting his fingers on either side of it, massaging it slowly. "So, uh, Edge is taking off early in the morning. I'm not cleared by the medical staff until Friday, at the earliest, so I guess you're stuck with me for a few days."

He could feel her lips curve into a smile against his skin. "I can think of worse things that could happen to me."

They both fell silent, Christian continuing his massage of her neck when she groaned low, under her breath, and stretched her neck to get his fingers back to the spot he had just left. He smiled in the dark, turning his head towards her to rest his face against her hair, breathing in the smell of the fruity shampoo she tended to use, and Ivory soap. It was a smell that he always associated with her, the Shea that they got at home. On the road, it was more often the smell of leather, sweat, and muscle creams that surrounded them. There was just something about the purely clean scent of her soap that made him wish she always slipped into bed with him when she showered at night. Shea moved again, arching her back and stretching her neck upwards, making her press against him even more. He could feel her heartbeat against his arm as she let out a sigh, leaning into his hand. "Better?" he asked quietly, somewhat surprised when she moved.

Flipping onto her stomach, she held herself up on an elbow, raising herself up on both arms, but keeping her hand on his chest. One of her legs slipped overtop of his, draping over his hip and settling between his, Christian biting his bottom lip at the feel of her bare leg against his. Did she know what she did to him, or even suspect it? He could block it out of his mind in the ring, ignore it when he felt the leather and her satiny smooth skin, such complete opposites, brush against him during a match or even backstage, but in a hotel room or at home...things were just completely different. He would be lying if he said that he didn't find Myst to be attractive, because she was, in the dark 'can't take home to your Momma' kind of way. But at the house, she became Shea. The shy, quiet girl with a tentative smile, who tended to wear clothing to hide her body, rather than accentuate it, her hair always in her face, her eyeglasses always on. She looked cute at home, like a stereotypical bookworm, and in the ring, she was a fiery and sexy woman. The contrast alone was enough to attract him to her.

But now he turned his attention back to the woman who was leaning on him in the dark, reaching his hands forward to tuck her hair behind her ears when it fell over her shoulders and pooled on his chest. "What's wrong?" he asked, peering up at her eyes.

"Nothing," she murmured, running her hand down his chest to his stomach, before slipping it off of him and resting it beside his hip. She lowered herself slowly, her eyes remaining on him before she bent her head towards his skin, closing her eyes slowly as she pressed her lips to his collarbone. He bit the inside of his mouth to prevent making any noise as she moved up slowly, her lips leading the way, before they got to the under side of his jaw. She rubbed her nose against the day-old stubble before kissing a rather warm spot she found there, flicking her tongue out taste his skin. His eyes flew open and his hands moved down to her upper arms, causing her to stop and raise her head, peering at him. "But...I thought-"

He stopped her from speaking anymore when he pulled her towards him and rolled her over onto her back, lowering his head and embracing her lips with his. Her eyes closed again as she wrapped her hands around the underside of his arms, her nails scratching the skin lightly. He responded by nipping at her bottom lip lightly and then kissing her softly, fleetingly, half a dozen times under she complained wordlessly, tugging him back to her. He kissed her a final time before raising his face from hers, and dropping a light kiss on the tip of her nose, moving above her glasses and kissing her again on the forehead. "Never think that I'm not-" He broke himself off in frustration, when she opened his eyes to look at him, his hands still firmly holding her arms. "You're a beautiful woman, Mys...Shea. And believe me, I've had dreams before that end up going this way, and even though this would be better than waking up blushing, I can't. I can't take advantage of you like this. You're upset about something and just plain old emotional and...It just wouldn't feel right."

She blinked slowly and let out a deep breath. "Christian, I've wanted to do that for God knows how long. I know what I'm doing. And my mind is completely focused on one thing: you. You and the fact that I may not be around to see you much anymore, if at all, and I'd like something more to remember you by when I'm alone. Or when I'm scared. The touch of you, the feel of you...the memory of you. I want to know that I'm loved."

"You are," he protested, moving his hands from her arms to cup her face, feeling her cheeks warm as she blushed. "You are loved."

"The words aren't enough." She shifted her body under him, hooking a leg around his, her skin brushing against him. "I need proof. Show me that you love me." When he didn't say anything, she arched her back again, and moved her hands to rest on his sides. "Please, Christian. Show me that you love me because you're going to hate me. And I need to know that one day, when everything is done, you'll understand and you might be able to forgive me. But for tonight...please."

Her impassioned plea seemed to do it. He bent his head and captured her lips with his again, his hands moving from her face upwards, slowly upwards, until they came to rest in her hair, massaging the sides of her head at the same time. He tore his lips away and lowered his head further, kissing the same spot on the underside of her jaw that she had kissed on his face before. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access to the spot, sighing softly. "But Edge is right-"

"Edge can sleep through a hurricane, remember?" she whispered to answer his protest that was murmured against her skin. "Don't worry, I'm quiet."

She didn't know what it was about her statement that incited him, but it was almost like he wanted her to make some sort of noise now. One hand went down to her hip, pushing under the material of her tank top to rest on her rib cage, the other staying tangled in her hair, as he raised his face to hers and his lips crashed onto hers with a force that she had only fantasized about before. This kiss was almost violent compared to the others, and she turned her head slightly to apply more pressure to his lips, rubbing her leg slowly up and down his.

He pulled away from her and helped her sit up, his hands coming to the bottom of her muscle tank top she was wearing, meeting her eyes for a moment. She bit her lip and nodded her head as his fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt for a moment. Within seconds, he had raised it above her head and let it fall onto the ground beside the bed, lowering her back down to the bed before pushing off his own shorts, and then hooking his fingers into hers. His breath caught a moment as he realized that she had been wearing a pair of his boxers, with the waist rolled down to keep them firmly in place on her hips. He slid them down slowly, his knuckles brushing against the skin of her hips, her thighs, her calves. She sighed at the contact as he removed the last barrier of clothing from her, adding them to the growing pile on the floor, before he sat back, drawing the blankets with him, and looking down at her with a fierce expression on his face.

Shea squirmed a little under his blazing eyes, thinking vainly of covering herself for a moment before he lowered himself back down, kissing her almost chastely. "You're beautiful," he assured her, his breath against her throat as he slid down her, his lips landing on the hollow of her throat, then below, slipping lower and lower. Finally, he kissed the warm, intimate area between her breasts, and she gasped suddenly, moving beneath him. Her pelvis brushed against him and he breathed in sharply. God, it had been so long since he'd last had a woman in his bed, let alone one that he was so attracted to. Ever since she had moved in, really. Even the buxom, bubbly, friendly Trish Stratus, who was without a doubt a gorgeous woman, barely garnered his attention when Myst was anywhere near by. And as gorgeous as Myst was, with her black leather and her mask to hide her features, he was far more attracted to the shy Shea that had just started opening up around them after three years.

He brushed the side of her breast with his breath, his eyes flicking towards her face to see her reaction. She had closed her eyes behind her glasses and bit her lip, her head tilted back against the pillow. He forced himself not to chuckle as he did it again, and she finally responded by making a soft sound, something that was almost like mewling, before he finally conceded in teasing her, replacing his breath with his lips. She made the same sound again, urging him on as she twisted beneath him, trying to direct his mouth to where she wanted it. He complied, kissing a lazy spiral around her breast, coming closer and closer to the center. He listened as she removed her glasses, dropping them on the bedside table with a clatter. Just as his mouth descended on the very center of her breast, one of his hands slid across her hip, to her stomach, his fingers trailing a burning path further down until his hand cupped her, not so much caressing as simply holding her, feeling the heat emanating from her.

She gasped, holding herself still for a moment, before she gave her, raising her hips and pushing her pelvis into the soft underside of his fingers. His hands had always fascinated her, the callused tips and palm, the rest soft and smooth. As she continued to buck against his hand, he pulled his body back and crouched over her stomach, flicking his tongue above her navel, almost touching the small silver curved barbell that was pushed through it. Her stomach muscles clenched and released, as he kissed, blew, and nibbled his way across the soft skin, back and forth, the strong muscles and the satiny smooth skin making the perfect combination in his mind. He listened to her breathing intently, waiting until it began to hitch and become ragged. He raised himself in one movement, stretched across her, and lowered his lips to hers. As he moved, he slipped his hand upwards, until a single finger was resting against her most sensitive area.

At the contact, she bucked against him one final time, and then her body tightened, becoming rigid as her hips rose off the bed, and her lips tore at his, a breathy moan sounding from her. He had never heard anything like that from her before, anything so feminine and soft, as she shuddered under him. Very slowly, as the grips of her orgasm released her, he moved his hand away from her, lessened the pressure of his lips against hers. "I do love you," he whispered to her, watching as she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Please." She mouthed the word, but he knew damned well what she was saying, and he kissed her again, smiling down at her as he brought a hand up to stroke her face.

"Okay," he said, whispering back to her, and running him thumb over her lips as they curved into a smile.

* * *

It had been early in the morning when she crept out of the house, after dressing herself in a pair of jeans that Edge had once talked her into buying, if only for the fact that they actually fit her somewhat tightly, and a plain black tee shirt, her ever-present leather jacket capping off her ensemble. She had slipped out of Christian's bed that morning, after she had let herself lay there for half an hour, just watching him sleep. It had been a challenge to slip out of his arms without waking him up, but he simply muttered something under his breath and turned over onto his side. She had brushed the hair away from his face and dropped a kiss lightly on his cheek before wrapping his robe around her and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower. She had snuck into Edge's bedroom after that, making a face at the mess he had left in the room from packing up his travel bags, making a mental note to clean it up before he came home, and then stealing over to his desk, digging through one of the drawers for his address book. If there was one thing she could say about the tall blonde, it was the fact that he kept great, detailed notes. She had flipped immediately to the 'J' section of his address book and ran her finger down three crossed out addresses and phone numbers before she found the one she wanted: the one in Tampa. 

From there, she had slipped her feet into a pair of flip flops that she kept around for walking out in the backyard, locking the front door behind her. She had taken Edge's truck, leaving Christian's small compact car in the double driveway, just in case he had somewhere to go in the morning. The drive took her a good forty minutes, and when she pulled into the right driveway, she turned off the truck and looked at the small house with some trepidation, rubbing her palms against her jeans. For a moment, she considered going back home to pick up her mask and lash it firmly in place, but she knew if she did that, there was no way that she was going to go back to the house.

Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door and slipped out of the truck, closing the door and hitting the proper button on the keychain to lock the vehicle, before walking over to the front door. She smiled slightly at the withered house plant that was sitting on the stoop next to the morning's newspaper. Taking another deep breath, she knocked on the front door, praying that he would be awake.

He was.

The door swung open for her to see a decidedly sleepy Jericho, his hair mussed and falling in his face, a mug of steaming coffee firmly held in one hand. "The hell?" he asked when he finally recognized the jacket and the eyes, scratching the side of his face in his confusion. "You're-"

"I know my name, thank you very much," she said softly, the first words she had ever spoken to him. His eyebrows raised and disappeared behind the blond hair falling in his eyes. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to the inside of his house. He simply stepped back and watched as she walked past him, flicking her eyes around the foyer. It looked like his place, as ridiculous as that sounded to her. But it was neat and tidy, just like he was, perfectly in order. She smiled slightly as she peered in the doorways she passed until she saw the kitchen. "Where do you keep your coffee mugs?" When he just stood there, watching her, she sighed and walked over to a drying rack beside the sink, plucking out a mug emblazoned with the WWE logo. "Stealing stuff from the company?"

He cocked an eyebrow in her direction. "I didn't think you talked. Or that you had a face."

Looking over her shoulder at him, she smiled slightly, and then poured herself a cup of coffee, adding a teaspoon of sugar before sitting down at the table. "Popular theories, from what I've heard from backstage. I even have a real name." There was a long pause as his blue eyes met her dark blue ones. "It's Shea."

"Pretty name," he commented. "I like it. It fits you."

When her lips curved into a smile this time, it was deeper, more pronounced. For a moment, he thought he saw a flash of a dimple that the mask would normally hide. "Christian doesn't seem to think so, but I can't really blame him for that. You don't really know me."

Chris Jericho shrugged, before brushing his hair out of his face finally, tucking it behind his ears. "Not really my fault there, kiddo. But I've fought with you before, and I know that you're fiercely loyal to your boys, and that you're fair and calm. Says a lot about you."

She sipped her coffee and pushed her glasses back over her eyes. "I'm not very calm right now, Chris. I just have a good front, and I have for the three years that you've seen me in the company. The reason that I'm here is because I know that you're a loyal person, too. Loyal to your company and to your friends. I know I'm not a friend of yours-"

"Friend by association, which is good enough for me. I happen to like Edge and Christian, and they think the world of you. It puts you in my good books."

"That's good to hear. Because I need your help. I've already gotten in contact with Trish Stratus, and she's in on it, too. I can't leave the guys a person down while I take care of some personal business. I'm not...not going to be walking out with them for a very long time. Hopefully, when it's all said and done, and I can go back to playing my part as Myst, I can. But not now. But I and a lot of people need you in on this. You're bright, you're resourceful, and you can be downright conniving when you have to be."

He shook his head, confused by her words. "What do you need me to do?"

Taking a deep breath, Shea closed her eyes and bent her head, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. "I need you to hate me."

* * *

The worried expression slipped from his face when she saw her standing in the doorway, holding a bag from a nearby bakery in her hand, a tray of drinks in the other. "I was wondering where you ran off to," Christian said quietly, eyeing her as she walked into the kitchen. She busied herself with taking a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread out of the bag, laying it on the counter, before taking the drinks out of the cardboard tray. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I wanted to make French toast this morning, and then I saw that we only had that white bread that you like, and you know how I don't like that stuff. So, I took Edge's truck, so you'd still have your car, and I went down to the bakery, but I guess I got there a little early, so I went for a drive, and then went back. And, you know, I figured that it would be nice to have something other than just plain coffee this morning, because I think I'm getting addicted to those vanilla lattes that your brother keeps ordering for me, and I know how much you like dark chocolate mochas, so I got you on of those, and-" She broke off her rambling when he stepped behind her slowly, lowering his arms to wrap around her waist. She breathed finally and closed her eyes, leaning against his chest as he shushed her, pressing a kiss to her temple. Her hands traveled down until they lay on top of his, lining up her fingers with his. "I'm sorry," she repeated softly.

"It's okay. Don't apologize," he told her, resting his head against hers. "I just...I thought that you would still be there when I woke up, and when you weren't...you've talked so much about leaving lately that I was worried."

She turned in his arms without him breaking the hold and pressed into his chest, resting her cheek right where she could feel his heartbeat from behind the muscles. "You know, backstage, Trish Stratus likes using me as a sounding board. We have this sort of...tradition, I guess. One day a week, she'll find me and pull me into a room somewhere and just ramble about whatever's bothering her. She really is a sweet girl," she said softly, her arms coming to wrap around his waist. "Anyway, I think I know the girl better than anyone, maybe even herself at this point. She's never heard me speak, and she's never seen me without my mask, but she called me her friend the other day, which was...she said that I was there for her when other people weren't, and that even though I didn't talk back to her, I would hug her when she was upset, or smile when she was being ridiculous."

Christian smiled in spite of himself, thinking of the little blonde that was constantly running around backstage. She could play a hell of a sex kitten in front of the camera, but get her in a friendly situation, and the woman was bubbly as hell and more than friendly. "Hence the reason she sent you those sunflowers the other day?" he asked, peering down at the bit of Shea's face he could actually see.

Her lips curved into a smile. "Yeah. I wrote her a very long email when I was injured the first time, answering some of the questions she had for me. She was absolutely ecstatic, and now we carry on an email conversation, but she still grabs me every now and then to ramble. But the funny thing is, in one of her emails, she was talking about the guy she likes, and yes, it's someone backstage, and then she asked me what I want in a lasting relationship." She moved back a bit, but stayed within the embrace of his arms, her eyes closing. "So I was closed my eyes and started typing. And when I opened them again...I realized that I had described you. That _you_ were everything that I was looking for. Or, at least, I was putting those things on you, and shaping them to fit you. If you know what I mean."

He moved a hand from the middle of her back and brought it up, using his thumb to brush away the tear that slipped from beneath her closed eye and her glasses. Slowly, his face hovered over hers before he kissed her softly, fleetingly, completely unlike their initial kisses of passion last night. "I know what you mean," he told her softly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. Looking at her like that, hearing the words that she was saying...he knew without a doubt now that she was leaving, and there was nothing that anyone could do to stop it. "Please, Shea, don't do this right now. Not..._fuck_," he said under his breath, causing her eyes to open. It was rarely that she heard the man swear outside of the ring, unlike people like Edge and Jericho, who seemed to pepper their conversations with curse words.

It stopped her tears immediately, however, and she forced a smile for him, resting her hand on his unshaven cheek. "It's okay. C'mon, I'll start making some French toast if you want to fry up that bacon that's in the fridge. And besides, our drinks are getting cold. We can always talk later, but...food. Hungry," she told him, winking before she stepped out of his arms and handed him his drink after checking the markings on it.

Pushing away a bit of shorter blonde hair that fell out of his ponytail, he nodded. "Sure. We can always talk later."

But if he thought that they were going to talk anytime after dinner, he was mistaken. She had simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow, before looking pointedly over at the clock. When they were at home, he typically headed over to a nearby gym to work out at the same time every day, and she was clearly waiting for him to leave. He did, after gathering his things and giving her a small wave as he left, wondering why the hell she seemed so anxious.

Because almost the second he had walked out the door and closed it behind him, the phone on the kitchen counter rang, and she took a deep breath, picking it up. "Hola?" she asked, in the best Spanish accent she could affect.

There was a long pause, before a male voice chuckled on the other side. "Cute, Shea. You almost had me there for a second."

She jumped onto the counter and swung her legs out in front of her, heels hitting the cabinet. The cat, which had planted itself under the kitchen table, glared at her for interrupting his sleep, before sauntering out of the room. "Yeah, well...it would really suck if someone called here, and it wasn't you. Lord knows, it's happened before."

"You're alone?" he asked.

"Would I be talking if I wasn't, Einstein? 'Course I am. I just pushed Christian out the door a moment ago, sent him to the gym. Edge took off this morning to join the show again. It's just me and the cat, and even the cat doesn't seem to like me much at the moment." She paused for a second. "So, I stopped by Jericho's place this morning and filled him in on everything. He said that he was more than willing to help. For the good of the company, and all that crap. Trish is in, too. She's a little confused, but she's more than willing to walk out with Edge and Christian at the shows. It's a great push for her; it'll do awesome for her career. It's done great for mine. I asked Jericho to tell her what I told him this morning. He said he would do it this afternoon, and I'll email her tonight, to make sure she's completely cool with everything."

He laughed again, this time the sound was more pure and like she was used to. "You've been a busy little girl, haven't you?"

She made a face and drained the last of her latte. "Don't call me that. You _know_ how much I hate it when you call me that. Anyway, the guys are completely lost about this. I told them that I was leaving, and that they were probably going to end up hating me, but other than that, they don't know. I'll break it to them about Trish later this week. I'm not supposed to wrestle, but I was going to leave when Christian did, and just travel with them. It should make the arrangements a little easier, and when we get near New York..."

"I've sent the keys out for the apartment to the house. They should be there tomorrow. Overnight courier. Thank God for UPS." They both fell silent for a second. "Shea, is there something that you're not telling me? You sound weird."

She sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned against the wall. "I love him. I really do. I tried not to, but he's just so damned _good_. He's so innocent and sweet, and he actually cares about me. I just...this is killing me, and I'm just going to end up hurting him," she whispered harshly to the person on the other line.

"Oh, honey. This is something that we didn't need, but...it's okay. I promise you. If he really does love you like you think he does, then he'll understand when it's all over with."

"I'm going to hurt them. You know that. There's no way around it. I'm going to be forced to do something to hurt them, and then...they may not be able to forgive me for that. Shit, that was the last thing that I wanted. And I know that this wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to get close to either of them, but it's been three years. It's not my fault that this has kept getting pushed back. We were supposed to do this within a year of me showing up, _a year_. Now, it's more personal than ever."

He sighed, and she knew that if he could, he would be holding her, comforting her. "I'm sorry, little girl. I never meant for this to happen to you, but you have to admit that this is the best place to be right now. Everything is perfect. It's like everything has fallen into place, and if we don't take this opportunity, it won't work. And then these past three years will have been for nothing. You don't want that, do you?"

"Of course not! This has been the end goal from the very beginning! You know that I'm in this wholeheartedly. I just wish I knew everyone else was."

"You need reassurance, huh? Well, if you've gotten Chris and Trish on your side, your part is done for the moment. I've already talked to the two on my end, and they're completely in agreement...funny, but this alliance of ours was the last thing I ever thought we would have. Still, we have all the players. You just have to make that last call."

She nodded to herself, opening her eyes. Slipping off the counter, she took a glass out of one of the cabinets and went to the fridge to pour herself a glass of grapefruit juice. "I already did. Last night. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. But it turns out that I'm a good actress or something, because it was fallen for, hook, line, and sinker. Playing on someone's ego is the easiest thing in the world, and thankfully...well, there's a lot of ego in that case. The two of us will meet in a week and a bit. It's cool. And you're right; all the pieces have fallen into place." She drank a sip of juice, staring at her reflection in a window. Even she was surprised by the coldness that now filled her eyes. "There's no way we can fail now."

And if she could have seen the person on the other side of the phone, she would have been able to see how he practically shivered at the sound of her voice. It was like ice.

* * *

The first video had shown up on Smackdown! that night. Christian and Shea had been on the couch, watching the show in hopes of seeing Edge beat the crap out of Matt Hardy for what they had received at the last pay-per-view. They had started out sitting side by side, but before long, she found herself firmly held in his arms, lying on the couch with one of the throw pillows beneath her head. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck from time to time when he would shift, and she continued to doze off throughout the show. He would let her nap for five or ten minutes at a time, only waking her when he figured she needed to be awake; if there was a woman's fight of any kind, so she could watch the competition, and when Edge's match came up. 

Almost directly after his match, a new promo, unlike one they had ever seen before, began to play. A smile curved her lips when she recognized the voice that was whispering, thankful when she realized that both Christian and the commentators that spoke afterwards didn't. It had been a risk, but damn it, she couldn't think of anyone else she would rather have doing that...and because she knew it would only help her in the long run.

Her part of the video had been done long before, almost a year ago, before she had moved in with the blonde brothers. The camera showed her from behind, moving slowly over her naked back and long blonde hair from behind. It was interrupted with quick cuts of parts of her face behind the mask. An eye, a bit of a smirk, and that cold chuckle that had first announced her presence to the world. Her theme music, the one she rarely used, since she was more often to be found running to the ring to Christian's original hard rock music, or Edge's theme, if there was more than just her competing, played in the background, before a male voice whispered a bit of the lyrics.

_I'm over it  
__Why can't we be together  
__Embrace it  
__Sleeping so long  
__Taking off the mask  
__At last, I see_

It cut to her naked back again, as her arms came up, just as slowly, to reach under her mass of hair and untie the leather strings that kept it firmly in place. Then it showed the mask falling down beside her feet, showing a bit of her usual black boots, and then quickly went to show a single dark blue eye, cold and almost furious, without the leather surrounding it. Her laugh sounded again as the words flashed across the screen. _Naked. Unmasked. Be ready_. The date for RAW, two weeks from then, accompanied it. She snorted to herself when she realized that her partner-in-crime had blatantly stolen the line from the Brood, the stable that the blonde brothers had been a part of before she showed up. It was a nice touch, and she reminded herself to thank him.

Christian tightened behind her when he saw the video package, closing his blue eyes as the commentators exclaimed over it, and then cut to a commercial. "Shea?" he asked softly, as she turned around and faced him.

Her hand rested on his cheek for a second, and then moved to slip his hair behind his ear; she always loved it when he wore his hair down, if only because it gave her a reason to play with it. "It's okay. You still have me for a little while," she told him, before kissing him.

But that little while was getting shorter and shorter.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

She met up with Trish Stratus fifteen minutes before the show was to begin to air live. She had seen her in the hallway and tapped the blonde woman on the shoulder, accepting the bright smile and cheery hello, before motioning to an empty room. Trish followed her there, watching as Shea turned on the light and closed the door. "Sorry to just grab you like that, but it's time for you to go sit with the team you're now going to be valet for," Shea said quietly, smiling a little at the shorter woman.

Trish's eyes lit up suddenly, and her face broke into a wide grin. "Oh, my God, you have a gorgeous voice," she murmured, laughing softly. "I'm sorry, it's just that I've never actually heard you speak, and well, it's nothing like I figured it to be." She cocked her head to the side and laid her hand on Shea's arm, her happy expression slipping away. "This isn't easy for you, is it? I mean, you've been with Edge and Christian since the very beginning and-"

Shea cleared her throat, breaking her off. "I'm gonna let you in on a few secrets before you go over there. Edge can be a real baby when he's injured. If it gets to be too much one night, just mention the word 'diapers', and he'll shut the hell up. When he's tired, he has a habit of using females for pillows, more specifically, their lap. It's mainly just so someone will play with his hair. It'll knock him right out, and then Christian will wake him up, and he'll make his way to whatever closest bed there is. Doesn't matter if it's his or not." She chuckled suddenly, and it didn't sound a bit like the recorded chuckle they were all used to hearing. "Christian...he likes to watch the news in the evening. Unless he's really tired or hurt, no matter where he is, he'll watch the eleven o'clock news. If we're on the West coast, it'll be CNN for an hour after he gets back to the hotel room. He's _always_ misplacing his reading glasses, so it's just better if you keep them in your purse. That way he doesn't have to tear through his bags to find them. He's a bit of a neat freak, likes things in their proper places. Edge is only neat when it comes to writing stuff down. He has a great filing system. Both of them are completely computer inept, so I hope you're good with them."

Trish nodded. "Yeah, I know my way around a computer all right. Myst, you don't have to-"

"My name is Shea, everyone will learn that tonight, and Christian calls me by that name now, so don't be surprised if you hear it tonight, before...everything. Anyway, usually, Christian takes care of the plane tickets, Edge takes care of the rental cars, and I book the hotel rooms. They always prefer to have two adjoining rooms, so that they can always be in close contact with me- you, now. That won't change. I left a notebook in their locker room with all the details of the usual hotels that we book at, the phone numbers, and the like. It's not that expensive, but it's not exactly cheap, either. Neither of them likes room service, by the way. They'd much rather find a 7-11 somewhere, if it's really late, and just buy a couple of sandwiches. But they're both really good cooks, especially Christian. He loves food, period. Edge adores popcorn, so you might want to get used to that, too."

The short blonde Canadian smiled for Shea's benefit, rubbing her arm when she heard her voice break towards the end. "Anything else?"

"Um...coffee. Christian likes dark chocolate mochas when he's on the road. He likes sweet, but not too sweet. They both drink their coffee black. Um, Edge will drink anything that catches his fancy, usually something cold, but he has a habit of ordering for me. Don't try to get him to make it non-fat or anything like that, he just won't remember. The three of us share the driving on the road, and whoever is in the passenger seat gets to pick the music. Bring some CDs with you, or else you'll get completely screwed. Person in the back usually sleeps; they always bring a pillow and blanket with them for that matter. And they're both gentlemen, so don't be offended by anything they do. They like to carry bags, open doors, give you their jackets if you so much as think of shivering. Get used to it. They're sweethearts. If you treat them right, they'll treat you like a princess."

"Are they okay with me walking out with them?"

She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Yes and no. They understand why I want someone else with them, and really, there's no one that I trust more than you. Same goes for them. They're happy that you said yes, but they don't want me to go. Give them a little while, and they'll be fine. Now, you talked with Chris, right?"

The woman blushed a bit, before she nodded again, her blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders. "Yeah, he explained everything to me. I don't quite understand everything that's going on, but I know what you're doing, and I think it's the right thing. You're a lot braver than I am, My...Shea. Wow, that's such a pretty name. Anyway, we worked everything out. Don't worry, everything is arranged on our end."

"Good. God, I don't know why I'm rambling on and on like this. I wrote all of this down for you. And it's not like they're going to expect you to move in with them. But, thankfully, you live in Tampa, and they really like hanging out on their off time with whoever they work with. Quite often, they go over and visit Jericho, so you know, get used to that. They're social butterflies, unlike me. They'll probably love that about you."

"It's okay, I can completely understand. Don't worry about them; I'll do the best I can."

Shea laughed suddenly and sniffled when she felt tears come to her eyes. "I don't want to leave them, Trish, I really don't. I love them like...they've been such great friends to me, and Edge really is like an older brother, and Christian, he's-"

Trish held up a hand, stopping her. "You're in love with him, I know. I knew it when you sent me back that email. Does he know?" At Shea's nod, she sighed. "I'll keep an eye on him, make sure he's okay. I know that you don't want to hurt him. And I know that you're going to tell me that if I hurt either of them, you'll make me regret the day I was born. Okay? We're completely understood on that. But, I really have to thank you. I know that you don't want to do this, but this is a great opportunity for me. I never thought that I would get to walk out with the best tag team in the company. And don't worry, I can take Lita. The redheaded little bitch isn't going to get anywhere near them."

"Good," she whispered, before hugging Trish quickly. "Enjoy them. They're great guys. And they already think the world of you." She smiled and let the woman go. "They're waiting for you in their locker room. They'll expect you to share with them. They'll leave when you want to change, so just don't worry about that." She handed her a plane ticket and keycard to a nearby hotel. "This is for the next flight and your room. We typically book a few weeks in advance, so Edge has the rest of your tickets with him in his bag. Don't forget to get them, because he will. Forget, I mean. I'll call you in a few days, okay?"

The two blonde women nodded at each other and shared a final smile, before Trish slipped out of the door and down the hallway, clutching the plane ticket and keycard in her hand, her duffel bag thrown over her shoulder. She made her way to the locker room with Edge, Christian, and Myst's names on the door, knocking on it. It opened almost immediately, and she smiled up at Edge, watching as his shoulders fell a bit. "Sorry, I know you were hoping it was someone else," she said quietly, as he opened the door to let her in. She stepped in and looked around. Between the two large bags on a nearby table, she saw a brand new notebook sitting there, with her name scrawled on the cover. "It's okay, you don't have to pretend. I know that you don't want her to leave, but really, this is just a temporary situation, until she comes back, right? I'm mainly here for Lita and to make sure that you two always have clean socks."

The taller of the brothers smiled at that and laughed a bit. "Thanks, Trish."

She shrugged, putting her bag down between theirs, over the notebook. "Hey, I understand. Shea and I have been talking a lot lately, and she's been filling me in on all of your embarrassing little habits and stuff. Is...Is Christian taking this okay? I know that the two of them have been rather close lately."

"Inseparable is more like it," he told her, running a hand through his hair. "He's not really talking all that much. I think he's regretting the fact that he never...you know...said anything to her before this. He's taking this really hard. I'm kind of worried about him."

Trish surprised him as she raised herself up on her heeled boots, wrapping her arms around his neck. He breathed in sharply, noticing the difference in the two women. You could tell that Shea was a wrestler, not that she was overly muscular, but you could feel the strength in her arms. Trish, on the other hand, seemed all woman, soft and delicate, but he knew enough from watching her that she could be a little hell-cat in the ring. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered his head until his forehead resting on her shoulder, closing his eyes. "Christian will be fine, Edge. He's a really strong guy, and I know it seems like it's all falling apart around you, and I know that I'll never be able to replace her, so I'm not going to try. But please know that I'm here for you if you need me." She ran a hand over his wavy hair as he tightened his hold on her briefly. "Everyone's so concerned about Christian, and I can understand why, but how are you dealing with this?"

His voice was muffled against her shoulder, but she still heard him loud and clear. "She's my little sister. I don't want her to go," he said softly, cursing the fact that he was getting emotional about this. "And I don't want to hate her, like she keeps saying we're going to."

"Then don't," she said comfortingly, now rubbing her hand up and down his muscular back. "Know that whatever she's doing, inside, she's still the same Shea that you've been around for three years, and remember: not everything is what it seems to be. Trust her."

* * *

They all knew from experience that cameras were everywhere backstage once the show began, and you never knew just when you were going to be caught doing something live. It was because of that reason that there were no more clandestine meetings with Shea once the show began. Instead, the foursome met in the hallway for a final goodbye. Christian had already met her before, in the same room that she had spoken to Trish in, and they had a private goodbye. She had kept him there long enough to wash the evidence of the tears off his face before taking him by the hand and leading him out to where Trish and Edge were supposed to meet them.

The four of them stood in the hallway, smiling awkwardly at each other for a moment, before Trish broke the silence, her shoulders moving up and down with a sigh. "I guess this is it, huh?" she asked, looking directly at the masked valet. She nodded silently, thankful for Christian's hand on her lower back. If there was anything she needed at that very moment, it was support. Shea's eyes flicked from person to person for a moment before she stepped forward and placed her hand on the side of Edge's face, her head cocked to the side as he regarded her silently.

Finally, the tall man smiled for her and nodded. "Good luck," he told her quietly, bending down to kiss her cheek. Her hand slipped away from his face when he moved and instead, landed on his shoulder, bringing him to her in a tight hug. Letting go of him, she turned to Christian and smiled for his benefit, raising herself to kiss his cheek quickly, not wanting the scene to get emotional. Finally, she looked at Trish and let her lips curve into a bit of a smile, reaching forward to embrace the young woman.

When she let her go, she stepped forward and watched as Trish walked between the two men, linking one of her arms through one of Edge's with a bright smile. "Don't worry, hon. I'll take good care of them, and-" She broke off when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly let go of the taller man, pushing Shea against the wall and sticking her foot out at the same time, watching as the redheaded woman tripped over it and sprawled to the floor. "Damn, do you have to try and ruin everything?" she exclaimed, looking down at Lita. "Can you not tell when someone is trying to have a private moment? How do you put up with her?" she finally asked, her eyes going to Shea. The masked valet simply shrugged with a look of amusement as the redhead glared up at them.

Together, the two women hauled Lita to her feet and threw her into a nearby room, ignoring the shouts of protest from whatever wrestler was changing into his tights, pulling the door shut with a bang, Trish giggling. The door opened almost immediately, and Lita was thrown back out, before Chris Jericho popped his head out the door, laughing, his blue eyes twinkling at the women. "Thanks, but it isn't my birthday. Maybe next month," he told them, closing the door.

Trish giggled again, a hand covering her mouth as she walked back to Edge and Christian, taking Christian by the wrist. With a cheery wave at Shea, she started down the hallway and towards her new dressing room with her new tag team, Shea stepping over the redhead with a nasty look and a kick, before heading off in the other direction.

Much like they had figured, they had been caught on camera, and now the whole world knew that Trish was replacing Myst, and the unmasking was really about to begin.

It was almost towards the end of the show when someone knocked on her dressing room door, letting her know it was time. Shea knew that she didn't have to worry about the redhead interrupting her at any time; Edge and Christian had fought a grudge match against the Hardys, and both Trish and Lita had been at ringside. Lita had been used to fighting against the high-flying, flashy Myst, but she certainly wasn't used to the mat work of Trish Stratus. Trish had used it to her advantage and cleaned the redhead's clock. In fact, as far as Shea knew, Lita was still getting looked over the medical staff, probably waiting for the numbing shot to kick in so she could get stitches in her forehead. Trish had grinned wickedly when she saw that she had busted the redhead open and kept her from interfering in the tag match, and when Edge and Christian won, she climbed into the ring and held their hands up, much like Myst always did, solidifying their new relationship.

Myst watched as the three men in the ring, one of which had been a total surprise to the audience, were arguing, before she slipped out of her room and made her way to the curtain, nodding at one of the technicians. At just the right time, the lights went out in the arena, and like her first appearance, her laugh was piped over the sound system. She slipped out in the darkness and made her way to the top of the ramp, feeling a hand rest on her back reassuringly. She nodded and handed over the microphone she was clutching in her hand, as the lights came back up briefly to show her standing there, her smirk firmly planted on her face. One of the men in the ring, Eric Bischoff, started to spout off to her, letting her know that she wasn't welcome here, that he didn't give a crap if she was supposed to take her mask off or not. She simply cocked her head to the side and smirked again when his microphone was cut off.

The crowd had been on their feet, screaming their approval for her, as the lights went out again. The cheers only seemed to get louder as they realized what was about to happen. She took a deep breath and quickly untied her mask, throwing it down at her feet and taking the microphone back from the man beside her. Raising it to her lips, she said her first words ever on television. "Hello," she said in her normal, cheery voice, as the lights blazed back up. The crowd was jumping up and down, fists in the air, yelling and shouting for her when they realized that she was unmasked, and a camera was directly focused on her face. Her eyes went to the ring and locked onto the other man's, before smiling brightly. "Daddy," she finished.

She turned her head and looked over at her older brother, Shane McMahon, as he winked at her, smirking in his dad's direction. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing his baby sister towards him, raising the microphone he was holding. The camera focused on the two of them, side by side, and the large screen behind them reflected their faces. For the first time, people began to realize just how similar their smirks were. "Didn't recognize her, did you?" he asked, over the shouting crowd. They calmed down when he began to speak. "Your daughter of twenty three years, and you didn't even know she was here. A little hair dye, a little leather mask...and little Shea McMahon became Myst." She turned her head and grinned at her big brother, eyes sparkling. "You don't get it, do you?"

Finally, Vince had a chance to speak, and he chose not to answer his son's question. "What in the _hell_ is she doing here?"

"I've been here for three years, Daddy. It's not like my appearance is that shocking," she told him, laughing to herself when the crowd started up again. "And the reason I'm here...is you. You see, long time ago, when I was just starting my second year of college, I got a call from Shane. He told me everything that had been happening lately, everything that I missed being in England. And he told me just how disappointed he was with you. Then Stephanie got on the phone. Well, I hadn't spoken to Steph for about what...a year or so? Since that last Christmas at the house. You remember it. Just before you told me you disowned me." The crowd started to boo and jeer at Vince, and she only cheered them on, motioning for them to get louder. When she was satisfied, she began to speak again. "Daddy, this is really all your fault. You're the one that started airing the family's dirty laundry on television. Funny enough, you never mentioned me. Well, I guess that's somewhat expected. Being the black sheep and whatnot, I could see why you wouldn't want to tell anyone how inadequate you are as a father, that you had to send your own daughter away to another country because you just couldn't handle her."

Eric Bischoff started to say something, but she quickly interrupted him. "I'll let you know when it's your turn to talk, asswipe. I'm not finished yet." Shaking her head, she stepped away from the arm that Shane had around her, making her way slowly down the ramp. Shane followed close to her. "Anyway, like I was saying, I talked to my darling older brother and sister, and they had a bit of a proposition for me. You see, they wanted to catch you off-guard. They needed the element of surprise, and really, they needed a spy. So who better than me? Shane paid for my way back to the States and he paid for me to get lessons with one of the top wrestlers in the industry...Shawn Michael's really is a sweetheart," she told him, giggling when the crowd jumped up and shouted loudly at the Heartbreak Kid's name. With a chuckle and a shrug, she climbed the stairs to the ring and slipped between the ropes, coming face to face with her father. "And just like Shane said, a little hair dye to make me a blonde instead of a brunette, a mask to hide my features, never speaking...and no one, not even Edge and Christian, knew who I was. It's _amazing_ what a girl can learn when she keeps her mouth shut. I think I know every dirty little secret that happens backstage."

Coming closer to her father, she looked him directly in the eye. "See, Shane had this great plan all worked out. I come here, I listen, I learn, and then we use all of that information to our advantage. Now, you did speed things up when you brought Eric Bischoff out. I mean, no one expected him. There wasn't even a whisper for his appearance backstage. That was something that Shane couldn't plan for. He thought that he could use this sudden friendship of yours to his advantage. I mean, what's better than having someone go toe to toe with the enemy? But you see, there's a little hitch in Shane's plan."

She turned to face her brother, smiling at him, reaching forward to put a hand on his cheek. He gave her an odd look as she continued to grin brightly. "Shane, that little hitch of yours, well..."

Vince finished the line for her. "You thought wrong," he told his son, in his normal throaty shout.

Shea lifted her hand from his face and quickly slapped him, before backing up enough to plant her knee between his legs. Shane sagged to the ground, and she caught him before he could fall, swinging his body around for a neck breaker that had the ring shuddering with the impact. She picked herself up and laughed to herself as Vince opened his arms to his baby daughter. She fell into them, hugging him back as the crowd began to react to what had just happened. The woman forced herself not to flinch at the sudden reaction from them, not surprised at how quickly they could turn on her. Stepping out of her father's embrace, she waited until he kissed her cheek before turning to Eric and brushing her hand along his face, his arm going around her back as he pulled her towards him, kissing her in front of the crowd.

Shane had rolled out of the ring, a hand on the back of his neck as he looked at his little sister with disbelief in his dark brown eyes, unable to comprehend just what the hell she had done. Shea laughed as she pulled back from Eric, kissing him again lightly and moving out of his embrace. "What, do you think I'm an idiot like you, Shane? Please! 'Oh, let's team up and take Daddy down!' You didn't have the first clue of how to go about it, and when I called Daddy that night and let him know that his two older children were conspiring against him and I was willing to get all the dirt about to and pass it on to him, well...let's just say that I was welcomed home with open arms. For three years now, _three years_, you thought that I was working for you, and really, I was just playing you, pumping you for information, biding my time with those two idiot brothers, until _Daddy_ was ready with his plan. Until he could take you down, and rip you apart. Oh, is little Shane's heart breaking at the sight of seeing his precious little sister standing next to her father? Or is the fact that for the past six months, I've been helping Eric get ready to make his debut on RAW...and sleeping with him the entire time. I always did go for the older men." At her words, Eric wrapped his arm around her, moving her closer to him. The lovers smiled at each other.

"Face it, Shane. You got screwed. And starting next week, Shea McMahon and Eric Bischoff are taking over. Get ready, because RAW? Really is going to be war." With a laugh, she dropped the microphone that she was holding, and reached up, pulling Eric's face back down to hers, kissing him as passionately as she could with her father watching, before letting go of him, both of them turning to smirk at Shane's shocked face. They stepped away from each other as Vince stood between them and grasped their wrists, raising their hands as if signifying a win.

The trio in the ring waited, smirks firmly in place, as Shane finally made his way up the ramp, giving his sister a wounded look, before disappearing behind the curtain. Vince left the ring soon after, and Eric helped Shea out, lifting her by the waist as she stood on the edge, putting her down on the ground beside him. She took his hand as they went up the ramp, the repetitive 'No Chance in Hell' ringing through their ears as they posed one last time at the top of the ramp, and then disappeared behind the stage. The woman giggled as she took off in a slow jog, her hand still entwined with Eric's, towards his rather larger dressing room.

Vince was already waiting for them there, a large grin on his face as he met the two of them in the room. "Oh, princess," he said, putting his hands on Shea's arms and dipping his head to look in her dark blue eyes. She smiled at him softly. "You don't know how proud I am of you. You did so good out there. Shane never suspected a thing until you hit him. That's my girl."

She looked down at her shoes, face flushing at his words. "Well, I learned from the best," she told him softly, before stepping away. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I really wish I could stay and talk with you more, but I'm really tired, and I'm afraid that Shane or maybe Christian or Edge might come to see me, and really, that's something that I want to avoid. Besides, I have to talk with Lita and the Hardys tonight, remember? Eric set up a meeting for us in our suite. And I kind of want to get out of this horrible outfit before they get there," she added, gesturing to the black leather pants and corset top that had become Myst's uniform.

He nodded and drew her to him again, kissing her cheek. His hand ruffled her hair from behind. "You really are my princess, Shea. I'll never forget what you've done for me these past three years, what you had to give up in order to help me. Now, you're coming back home for the weekend, right? I'm sure your mom would love to see you."

Her nose wrinkled. "Mom hates me. You know that."

"And you know how much fun that can be," Vince reminded her, giving her a look. She grinned suddenly and laughed before her father said goodbye to the two, shaking Eric's hand, leaving the two alone. Without a word, they both gathered their bags, Shea's duffel and his briefcase, before leaving the room. They didn't speak a word, only held hands as he carried both the bags and led her towards the parking garage, where there was a limo waiting to take them back to their hotel.

Shea almost froze in the hallway when she saw Christian and Chris Jericho standing against a wall, Jericho glaring at her with angry blue eyes. She paled a bit, and stepped closer to Eric when she saw the look Christian directed her way. She could feel tears rising to her eyes when she saw how hurt he looked, how confused. Jericho moved his hand onto Christian's shoulder, gesturing for the two of them to get the hell out of their site, and they did so, Eric pulling her along by the hand quickly. She bit her lip and held herself together as she climbed into the limo, waiting until he closed the door behind them. The car took off almost immediately and she tipped her head back against the leather seat, closing her eyes.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Eric asked her softly from the seat beside her, before putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her head down to his shoulder. She sniffled and rested her cheek against his leather jacket. "I'm sorry, Shea. I didn't- I mean, when we agreed to this, I didn't think there was anything happening between you and Christian."

She laughed coldly. "I told him he would hate me, Eric. And he does. I want to tell him and make him understand that I love him, and only him, but...he wouldn't listen even if I tried. That's why I left Trish with them. I just...Jericho I can handle. He's in on this. He knows everything that's going on, but Christian. He's so hurt."

Eric Bischoff smiled at the young girl resting against him, rubbing her bare arm slowly. "It won't be long before we put Vince in his place, and you can go back to him." Nudging her up, he slipped off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders, tapping her on her cheek with his finger. "He loves you, Shea. He's not going to give up on you, and when he learns why you did what you did-"

A third voice interrupted them from across on the other seat, and reached out to take Shea's hand. "Trust me, little girl. Dad's not gonna know what hit him," Shane McMahon told her with a comforting smile, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

No, Vince didn't have any idea what was really going on.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Chris Jericho was still muttering to himself, cursing under his breath, as he stepped out of the hotel elevator with the blonde brothers and their new valet. Trish looked up at him with raised brows when she heard a particular colorful combination of curses slip past his lips. "Chris, I think we get the idea. You hate her. But this isn't the time or the place for it," she added, before nodding her head towards the shorter of the two brothers. Chris winced when he saw just how tight Christian's shoulders were, and how he had kept his head bowed for the rest of the night so his long hair could hide his face.

The buxom blonde stopped suddenly, checking the keycard in her hand for a final time before gesturing to the door in front of her. "I guess this is mine. Shea told me that she had already taken her stuff out of here, so-"

A hand closed on her wrist before she could swipe the card, and she jumped a little, before looking up at Jericho's face. With his head turned away from the brothers, he winked at her, before shaking his head. "I don't think you should stay there, Trish. I mean, we don't know what's going through that woman's mind anymore."

She sighed and stepped away from the door. "Shea's my friend. She wouldn't do anything, and you know it."

"No, we don't," Edge said quietly, before shifting the strap of her bag on his shoulder. "She's working for Vince, and we all know what he's capable of. She could have just left us, but she purposely put you with us. I don't know what game she's playing, but I think Chris is right. You shouldn't stay there tonight. For all we know, she's got Lita waiting in there for you. And at this point, I wouldn't put anything past her."

Trish rolled her eyes, stepping away from the door as she folded her arms under her breasts, one hip cocked to the side as she looked between Edge and Chris. Christian remained with his back turned, waiting outside his own hotel room door, listening to the three of them bicker. The small blonde, who looked even smaller now that she was slouching, made a face at them. "Oh? And what am I supposed to do, sleep in the hallway? I don't think I could get a room here tonight if I tried. You saw the sign, there's some sort of conference going on tomorrow morning."

"You can stay with me," Chris offered. "They gave me a double room, by mistake. There are two beds. I'm a few floors up, so even if she had something planned for you, there's no way in hell that she would anticipate you staying with me. It's the safest solution," he added, when Edge looked over at him.

Finally, Edge nodded. "Thanks, Chris. I appreciate it. I'd feel better if Trish wasn't left alone tonight."

"Hello! Standing right here," she exclaimed. "I can hear you, you know." Taking in the stern look from both of the men, she finally relented with a sigh. "All right, fine. Thank you for your concern. I'll meet you guys down in the lobby around...nine thirty tomorrow morning? That should give us enough time to get to the airport." When Edge nodded, she smiled at him and straightened, putting her hand on his arm. "Call me if you need anything tonight, anything at all. You have my cell phone number; don't be afraid to use it." She patted him on the arm and then slipped past him, going over to Christian, where he was slumped against the wall. She placed her hand on his back, looking under the curtain of blond hair that hid him from everyone. "Get some sleep, okay? Don't think about it tonight. We've all had a long night. And you know that if you need to talk-"

"I'm fine, Trish," he said, cutting her off as he raised his head, staring forward.

She nodded slowly, biting her bottom lip before she stepped away from him. Chris took her bag from Edge and looped the handle over his shoulder, offering his hand to the small blonde. She placed her much smaller hand in his, almost smiling at the way it seemed to swallow hers, as he started to walk her down the hallway. Once she was at his side, he let go of her hand and placed his on her back, escorting her into the elevator. Once the doors shut, they both let out a sigh at the same time, looking over at each other and chuckling. Chris sobered almost instantly. "He's really taking this hard."

"Well, of course he is. They love each other, and then she just suddenly turns around and starts making out with Eric Bischoff in the middle of the ring."

"Thanks for the reminder," he told her, wrinkling his nose as the elevator stopped. He led her down the hallway to his room, opening the door and throwing their bags in the corner. "Did you want to change before we head up to Shea's room?"

She flicked a look at the clock and then nodded. "Yeah, I think so. By the time we get back here, I'm probably just going to crash on the nearest bed. Just give me a second," she told him, before going over to the suitcase she had left in his room earlier that day, digging through it before disappearing into the bathroom. He sat down on the edge of one of the beds, rolling his shoulders to try and release some of the tightness that he felt from his match earlier that night, before she emerged five minutes later, her clothes dangling from her hands. Chris laughed suddenly as he looked at the tiny blonde, now clad in a pair of flannel pajama pants with cartoon characters on them and the matching tank top. She had washed her face, her rosy cheeks evidence of that, and pulled her hair up into a sleek ponytail. She put her clothes back in her suitcase, pulling out a pair of small white socks, and sat down on the ground, pulling them on. "Are you laughing at my Eeyore pajamas?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am," he said between chuckles.

She stood up and put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "I'll have you know that Shea gave me these. Remember when I sprained my wrist? Well, I emailed her a few times, and I guess I was sounding a little upset about it, so she gave me these the next time she saw me. I think they're cute."

"And I think you look like you're twelve years old in those," he told her, laughing even harder when she swatted his arm. He stood up and cocked his head to the door. "C'mon, little bit. Shea probably wants to crash sometime soon, so we should probably get this over with."

The two of them got back onto the elevator and stood in silence as it rose almost to the top of the building, Trish having to point out the proper direction of the man. She marched over to the door and knocked on it, watching as it opened a crack for someone to look out at her. "Hi," she said cheerfully, waiting until Eric Bischoff pulled the door open enough that the two of them could walk in. "How's she doing?" she asked him, her voice a bit lower, as she tried to peek into the sitting room, where she heard voices.

"Well, as long as Shane keeps her mind on work, she does all right. But she's a little upset." Trish nodded, her ponytail bouncing, as she took off in the direction that Eric motioned to. Chris stepped through the door next, and gave his former employer a stiff nod, walking quickly after the blonde woman.

"I guess I missed the memo that it's a pajama party," he said, surveying the people in the room. Shane McMahon looked up at him from where he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the chair that Shea was sitting in cross-legged, his sister massaging his neck and shoulders as her head was turned, chatting with Trish. The heir apparent was wearing the same comfortable jeans he had shown up at the arena in, switching out his turtleneck for a Boston University tee shirt. "How's the neck?"

Shane flicked his eyes towards his little sister and chuckled. "Well, she definitely knows how to wrestle, I'll say that. I wanted it to look good, so I told her to really let me have it. She did." He raised a hand and gestured to the table in front of him. "Help yourself to some pizza. We just got it about twenty minutes ago, so it should still be warm."

"Ooh, pizza!" Trish exclaimed, hopping over Shane's outstretched legs to pick up a paper plate and drop two slices of pizza on it, taking a napkin as well. "Thank God. With everything that happened tonight, we didn't have time to stop and get something to eat. Besides, the guys just wanted to go directly to their room, and then Chris and I came right up here. So, how'd the meeting with the bitch go?" she asked sunnily, plopping down on the floor as she took a bite.

Shea McMahon laughed from where she was sitting, stopping her massage for a moment to drink from a can of soda near her. "I did everything in my power not to scratch her eyes out. I was friendly, told her that I was giving up the title belt and that I'm going to have a lottery on the next RAW to choose the number-one contenders. Eric is going to be fixing it. It'll be you versus Lita, and you had better beat the crap out of her. God, if she's annoying when she hates you, it's even worse when she's working on the same side as you."

Trish's eyes lit up, as she swiped her napkin across her lips. "Really? You're...you're going to give me a title shot? I've never had one," she said softly.

"Well, you deserve one," Shane told her, as his sister's hands went back down to his shoulders. "Dad's really screwed things up around here. You should have gotten a shot at the title belt a long time ago. You've really improved since you first showed up," he told the small blonde, smiling a little when she flushed and dropped her eyes down to her plate. "Same as you, Chris. For some reason, he does not like you."

The blond man shrugged as he took a seat, looking around the room at everyone there. Shea had changed out of her constricting leather outfit, choosing a pair of pajama pants that looked like their may have once belonged to Edge or Christian, and judging from the length of the pants, he was going with the former, and a black sports bra. Eric Bischoff, on the other hand, sitting comfortably on a nearby couch and looking through a file, was still wearing his all-black outfit that he had worn on television that night. "Might have something to do with the fact that I keep insulting his darling little princess," he said, taking the pizza crust that Trish left on her plate, biting into it.

"True enough," Shea said quietly. "Stephanie couldn't be here tonight, but she did ask me to tell you again that she's very sorry for everything that she'd said to you and done to you the past little while. She really didn't mean it. Everything that Shane and Steph have done for the past three years...it's all been because of this. Everything was part of this plan. Even Eric. I told the truth...well, half a truth, tonight. He has been in on this for six months, just on our side. He dislikes Dad as much as we do."

The man finally spoke up from the couch. "That's an understatement and a half," he told her, his eyes staying on the papers in his lap. "Where _is_ Steph, anyway?" he asked, finally raising his eyes to look at her.

Shane sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back as his sister continued to knead at his sore muscles. "She wants to stay in the office for a little while longer, in hopes that she can pick up some more information for us. I mean, if it wasn't for her, we never would have known that Dad was going to try and talk you into showing up here. Steph is a brat, always has been, but she's the queen of eavesdropping and spying," he murmured. "Okay, if you don't stop that, I'm gonna fall asleep right here, and just imagine Dad's reaction when he comes here for breakfast in the morning."

With a snicker, Shea lifted her hands and wiggled her fingers. "Good, 'cause my hands are starting to get sore." She nudged him with her foot until he scooted over to the side, leaning back again, while she changed position, curling up and tucking her feet under her. "Okay, so down to business. Trish, you already know that you're going to get your title shot. And I fully expect you to win. If only to piss off me and Eric, because we will be cheering for Lita, of course. Chris, we need you to thoroughly piss off Eric. And the best way to do that-"

"Is team up with me," Shane told him, opening his eyes finally as he shrugged. "I'm sorry; I know it's not the ideal situation for you. I mean, you _should_ be a main-event guy, and I'm a sad excuse for a wrestler as it is, but I'm just going to be a mouthpiece in this. Hopefully. If I do have to step into the ring, it'll be against Eric. I can only imagine the match the two of us could put on." The two non-wrestlers in the room looked at each other, as Shane snorted with laughter. "God, that's going to be embarrassing."

Trish surprised everyone by reaching out and smacking Shane on the arm, giving him a stern look. "Don't talk like that. I've seen you in the ring. Like that street fight that you had with Kurt Angle at King of the Ring last year. You're lucky that you weren't seriously injured! But you definitely know how to fight, even if you aren't the most technical of wrestlers. Stop selling yourself short."

"I'd listen to her, Shane. She knows what she's talking about. Unfortunately, for Vince McMahon's children, selling ourselves short is something that we were trained to do at a very young age. 'You're stupid, you're worthless'. Ring any bells?"

With a groan, the heir apparent rolled his eyes. "You forgot a few. Stupid, worthless, waste of space, bastard, not worth his time...shit, I can't remember them all. And you got it the worst." He reached up blindly and patted his sister on the knee. "I think my personal favorite was when he told you that you'd do well on a street corner, with a mattress strapped to your back and a coin belt around your waist so you could make change for your customers."

"Vince said that to you?" Chris asked, his blue eyes narrowing as he finished eating the first pizza crust, plucking the second one out of Trish's fingers. "You have to be kidding me. He talked to his own daughter like that?"

Shea shrugged. "You should've heard some of the things he would say to Shane. He had to be a good example to me and Steph, of course. I can't even count how many times Dad would threaten to whip me with his belt. Funny enough, that's one thing he never did. Never once laid a finger on any of us, outside of spankings when we were really young. He just liked to yell and make us cry. Or, in my case, ship me off to England to 'school'."

The most silent of the five, Eric Bischoff, feeling like he almost didn't belong in the room with the staunch WWE supporters, closed the file he was holding and dropped it by his feet, where there was a messy stack of papers. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward to grab his bottle of water from the table. "I take it that it wasn't much of a school."

The woman shook her head sadly. "No, it wasn't. It was more like a boot camp for troubled girls. Outside of classes, there were therapy sessions, rehab, church events...I think the headmistress almost had a heart attack when I told her that I wasn't Catholic, like the rest of my family. I told her that I was a Pagan, and she started spouting off about witches and the devil." She shook her head. "Actually, I don't believe in any religion, organized or otherwise, but I knew that it would piss her off. They also firmly believed in capital punishment and child labor. I think there are still a few scars on my knuckles that never completely disappeared." She held her hands up to her face and examined them. "I acted out a lot of a kid, and Dad never did anything to stop me. He just sent me away one day. Told me that I was going to be meeting Mom in France, to go on a shopping trip. Loaded me up in the jet, sent me on my way, and all of a sudden, we landed in London, my luggage was being searched for drugs, and I had to strip naked for them to make sure that I wasn't carrying any contraband. I got a few hits for that." She smiled at the questioning look on Eric's face. "I had a few joints hidden down my socks, because I figured that customs would be going through my bags. But my cigarettes and booze were taken away."

"How can people treat their children like that?" Trish asked softly, shaking her head. "I mean, I didn't have the best childhood growing up. I did some bad things, too, but my parents always loved me. They never did anything like that to me. How can someone hurt their children, tear them apart? That's sick," she whispered, blinking as she felt tears come to her eyes as she realized just what kind of life her new friend had growing up. Shane looked just as thoughtful, lost in his own memories for the moment, and she watched as his sister lowered her hand and ran her fingers through his short hair, scratching the top of his head lightly.

"Try being the oldest and having to be that good example for your two little sisters. Nothing you could do, no matter what it was, would be good enough for him. I remember Steph bringing home a test that she got ninety-eight percent on. I mean, that's an A plus, but because it wasn't one hundred percent, he didn't accept it. In fact, he punished her for it. Mom wasn't much help, much as I love her. He told her that he could discipline us better than she could, because she was too kind to us, and she went along with it. We never really told her how bad it was, and I don't think she really noticed until he shipped Shea off to England. She got a long hateful letter from Shea, who was telling her all about the conditions at the school, and she just never knew. Dad told her that he wanted to send her to a boarding school outside of the country, to see if she would shape up a bit."

"I did," Shea said with a bit of a frown. "I mean, there really wasn't much to fix. I acted out to get attention, and I saw what that attention got me. I wasn't really addicted to anything, and I never went further than smoking a little pot and having a drink on the weekend. Normal teenager stuff. Hell, Shane was stoned every day for almost a year, and he didn't get sent to boarding school." She shrugged and looked down at her hands, a bit of a smile creeping onto her face. "Of course, I was a bit of a slut back then. Slept with Steph's boyfriend and everything. But I was young, you know? I was just fooling around." Shaking her head, she laughed a bit, her eyes meeting those of her brother. He nodded, barely moving his head, agreeing with the silent message.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, Eric caught the look shared between the siblings and let one corner of his mouth twitch into a smile, before he hid it. "But that has absolutely nothing to do with what we were talking about," he said. Shane turned to look at him, giving him a grateful look. "Okay. Shane and Chris. We have to figure out how this'll work."

Chris swallowed the last bite of crust, rubbing his hands together to rid them of crumbs. "Well, really, it's simple. Shane and I become 'partners', I guess, out of default. There's no way that I would align myself with you, considering our past together in WCW." The two men shared a look, but the words were without the venom that Chris usually laced his voice with when speaking of his former boss. "And everyone knows that I'm friends with Edge and Christian. Have been since I made my first appearance. We knew each other back in Canada, so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch that I would be mad at Shea. I've tagged with her a few times."

"Tagging with me...I don't think it'll be quite enough. I mean, yeah, we fought side by side a few times, but we also didn't speak. And the only times that I tagged with you was when you were filling in for Christian or Edge a few times, when one of them was hurt. I'm sorry, but it seems like a bit of a stretch to me."

Everyone in the room fell silent for a moment, as Trish slid her paper plate back onto the table, before she practically bounced on the floor. "I've got it! That's perfect, because your dad thinks that you're a...well, you know, that you sleep around. You slept with Chris!"

Shea and Chris looked at each other, before they burst out laughing. "He's really not my type."

"And she's not mine," he said in return. "No offense."

"Oh, none taken, asswipe," she replied, just as cheerfully. "I don't know. The guys wouldn't fall for it. I was never around Chris, other than those few times. They hung out with him a lot, but I never joined. Couldn't be seen without the mask, you know? Thanks, Trish, but I don't think it's going to work."

Eric was the next to throw his two cents in. "Maybe just hating me will be enough. We don't necessarily have to have a reason for Chris to be against Shea. Hatred by proxy is good enough, isn't it? Otherwise, it may seem a little contrived."

"And of course, Shea can always get you back for trying to get at Eric, and that right there would be her motivation. It works," Shane added, nodding his head in the man's direction. "You're right; we don't want things to look too obvious. It's going to be hard enough to pull off the women's championship match." He shared a look with his sister. "On the next RAW, when Shea holds her lottery, you're having your match that night. Lita thinks that Shea is going to be interfering to give her the win. She already knows that it's rigged, so it'll be her versus you," he said, directing his eyes towards Trish. "What Lita doesn't know is that even though I'm not supposed to be there, Shea's going to get 'knocked out', so to speak, backstage. I'm going to be the one doing it. Eric is going to go to talk to Dad before the match takes place, and then I'm going to go in their room and hit Shea with a chair. Unfortunately, because we're arranging for the cameras to catch it, I really do have to hit her." Chris raised an eyebrow at the eldest McMahon child. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt her, but it has to look good."

"I already agreed to take the hit, Chris. Dad has to believe that Shane laid me out, if only to get an even bigger rivalry between the two of them, and a good reason for Eric to absolutely despise Shane. That's where you'll come in. Two weeks from now, the week before the pay per view, Eric is going to go after Shane, and you're going to stop him. You're going to be well-rewarded for this, Chris, so please don't think that we're just going to be using you. You're getting a shot at the title, and we'll find a way for you to win it."

He shook his head. "No. Just give me the shot, that's good enough. I'd rather win it because I earned it, not because someone interferes in my behalf." There were nods around the room as his words sunk in. "So, what's going to happen between Trish and Lita?"

"Well, what's going to happen is that my music is going to start, letting Lita know that I'm supposedly coming out. But instead, it's going to show what happened to me in the locker room. And then Shane's going to show up at the top of the ramp, with a dented chair. We're hoping that him showing up will catch her off-guard long enough for Trish to roll her up or beat the shit out of her. Either way. And it's not that we don't doubt that Trish can beat her, because I _know_ that she can. I just want to screw that woman off as best as possible, so that when she does find out that I'm not just a double-crosser, but a double-double-crosser, it'll make it even worse."

"You really don't like her, do you?" Eric asked suddenly, grinning mischievously at the woman, who simply laughed and flipped him off.

* * *

Shea smiled across the table at her father, before picking up a glass of orange juice and taking a sip. "I have to admit, this is really nice. Getting to sit here and have breakfast with my two favorite guys in the entire world." She turned her head in the direction of Eric and gave him a warm smile, as he covered her hand with his. "So, Daddy, you said that you wanted to talk business, right? I don't imagine what we could have to talk about. As far as I know, everything's already set." She smiled again at Eric, and then took a bite of her scrambled eggs.

Vince sighed and shifted in his seat, giving her a sorrowful look. "What are you two planning to do about Shane showing up next week?" he asked, his eyes going between the two, almost as if he were watching a tennis match.

It was Eric that decided to answer him, after he put down his fork and reached for the linen napkin by his plate. "Well, as of now, Shane's banned from the arena next week. I don't doubt that he wants to come and cause trouble, and that's the last thing that Shea needs. This has been hard on her, a lot harder than most people think." The two 'lovers' shared a look, Shea pouting a bit. "I think she needs a break. But by then, I think we'll have talked to a few people and worked a few things out. I'm going to arrange for Shea to have a few guards while she's backstage. I wouldn't put it past Shane to convince someone to go after her. Your son is a conniving little brat."

She almost snorted into her orange juice when she heard him say that, wondering how it was going to feel when her father learned just how conniving _all_ of his children could be. Taking a moment to compose herself, she put the glass down and sighed. "I really wish Shane hadn't of done this. I tried so hard, any time I got a chance, to convince him that this was wrong, that we shouldn't do it, but he just wouldn't listen. It's just not fair. You'd think that one day, we could be a family, like we used to, but he seems dead set against it." She shook her head, ponytail bouncing. "It's all right, Daddy. I can handle Shane if I have to. After all, I'm the one with the formal training. I'm surprised that he even knows that difference between a moonsault and a shooting star. If he tries anything, I'll take care of him. And then I'll let you know, so you can think of something really nasty to have happen to him."

"But I thought that you weren't going to wrestle anymore," Eric asked her, his voice firm, as if he were more telling her not to than anything.

She nodded slowly. "I am. I'm vacating my title on RAW next week and we're going to hold a lottery for two number one contenders. Poor Trish," she sighed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "She'll never see it coming. After all, for two and a half years now, I've been fighting tooth and nail with Lita almost every week. Who'd think that I'd actually be helping her. No, the women's title is going to someone who deserves it." And Shea knew exactly who that was going to be, the name 'Trish' going through her mind.

Vince raised his head from his plate. "That really doesn't cover Shane, though. That's what I'm worried about. I don't want him going after you, princess." The woman had to bite her tongue not to say something nasty as Vince cupped her cheek with his hand. "That's the last thing that I want, but unfortunately, I think we're going to have to give it to him."

Sitting back in her chair, the blonde woman eyed her father, wondering what the hell was going through his diabolical mind. "I don't get it. You...want Shane to come after me?"

"No, no," he cooed at her, before his face broke into that evil grin that so many people had seen and feared. "I want him crushed. And he's going to want to get you back for hurting him, deceiving him for three years. So, at the next pay per view, we're going to give him what he wants. One-on-one, with you. In a street fight."

Shea and Eric shared a look, neither of them looking too comfortable with how the conversation was going. "Well, Daddy...I just got back from an injury, you know. I mean, my ankle still isn't at a hundred percent. And I don't want to risk re-injuring myself, especially since Eric is going to need my help to keep control of everything backstage. I just don't-"

"Vince, I don't think that's the best idea. I mean, we don't want Shea getting hurt. And you know how Shane is. He's the type to go after what he wants, and right now, he wants to hurt Shea. Plus, he has a lot of friends backstage. I mean, with everything that's going to happen in the next few weeks, Shea's going to be making a few enemies. Edge and Christian probably already hate her for the fact that she-"

The chairman of the WWE raised his hands, cutting off both of them as they tried to speak over one another. "You completely misunderstand. A street fight essentially means no-holds-barred, right? The only rule is that the pin has to take place in the ring. There are a lot of people backstage who will do anything to hold onto their jobs. And those are the people that I'm counting on to protect Shea. Shane won't have a chance to so much as lay a finger on her, between her training and the help she'll be getting."

Even though she showed off her normal calm exterior, Shea could feel the panic starting to rise in her as she thought about what was going to happen to her older brother. She flicked her eyes towards Eric quickly and noted that under the table, where one of his hands was laying against his thigh, the fingers were crossed, as if he were already praying for luck for the heir apparent. This was definitely not going the way that they figured it out, she thought to herself, nodding slowly as if trying to take in and process all the information that her father had just dropped on her. They hadn't even anticipated anything like that, and she knew that in this case, either she was going to get the crap beaten out of her, or Shane would, and knowing her older brother the way that she did, she knew that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he was going to let it be her. "I like it," she finally told him, a smile starting to spread on her face. "No, I definitely like it. It's a great plan. Oh, to get my hands on Shane. I can't wait."

He shrugged. "I thought that you would like the match. Announce it on RAW next week, so that Eric can start work behind the scenes. I'll let you know who to talk to, who needs their jobs more than the others."

Eric nodded. "Sounds like RAW is going to be more fun that we originally thought."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

"You look better as a brunette, you know," a soft voice said from behind her.

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, smiling at the intruder who had just let himself into her apartment. Her head turned back to look at the city skyline, too far up to hear the sounds of traffic from below, other than the occasional horn or siren. And even those were nice and quiet. No, she'd have no problem sleeping there, she thought to herself, running a hand over the back of her hair. Hands landed on her shoulders and the person behind her placed a kiss to the top of her head, on the now brown hair. "Thanks," she said, just as quietly, as he came to stand beside her, crossing his arms on the balcony railing and looking down.

"So, do you think if I spit from here, I'll hit someone?" he asked, his dark brown eyes twinkling at her.

With a laugh, Shea pushed her hip into her brother's, rocking him in place briefly. "Don't even think about it, Shane." They both fell silent for a moment. "Thank you, again, for letting me stay here. I can't imagine what it would be like, going back to the house in Tampa. I'm pretty sure Edge would throw me out the door by my hair or something. He, uh, really didn't look happy with me the other day."

Shane shrugged his shoulders. "Can't really blame him, honey. You just turned on them. You're aligned with the big bad guys. You're working for Vince. That alone is enough to make anyone hate the sweetest and kindest person...not that you're really either of those." She nodded, accepting that. If there was anything that spoke of the true depth of the relationship between the two siblings, it was the unwavering devotion and honesty between them, something that Vince had never figured out. And something that he wouldn't know about, until they revealed their plan. "I still can't believe that he wants you and me to beat the hell out of each other in the ring. I mean, don't get me wrong. You're a HELL of a wrestler, but you're a female wrestler. Yeah, you can knock a guy for a loop, but I'm stronger than you, and he knows it."

"Part of me wonders if he isn't trying to punish me for the things I did way back when. You know, show me a lesson, or let me know how bad it could be if I turned on him." A corner of her mouth curved up humorlessly. "I don't know, Shane. We're going to have to find a way around this, or at least keep you from being beaten to a bloody pulp. I mean, Jericho is obviously going to come out and help you, but that's one guy against a third of the roster. And that's just an estimate as to how many Dad could convince to help me."

Shane turned away from his sister and walked back into the penthouse apartment that he owned, listening as she followed him, sliding the door shut. He made his way over to the small table in the dining room and picked up a bottle of wine, pouring them both a glass. As he handed it to her, she quirked an eyebrow in his direction. "Cabernet Sauvignon. I know what you like," he told her, smiling as she accepted the glass and took a sip. "Getting back to the matter at hand...I'm pretty sure that Chris could convince Christian and Edge to come out there, as well, and Trish would most likely tag along to keep you busy. I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but maybe we won't need anyone else," he said, his voice growing more thoughtful as he got to the end of his statement.

Cocking her head to one side, she gave him an appraising look. "You've got that look about you."

"Which look?"

"The 'see how much I can piss of Daddy' look. I remember it from when you were a teenager. Those were usually the nights that you would come back in the house at three in the morning on a school night, stoned and falling down drunk, not bothering to keep quiet."

He grinned brightly at her. "Look, I know our family has a lot of shortcomings. One of those is that we're so very confident, to the point of making fools of ourselves. It's a well-established family trait, and it's something that's afflicting Vince at the moment. And possibly, Shea McMahon might feel the same way." When she shook her head in confusion, he pulled out one of the chairs for her to sit down in, taking another for himself before lighting a cigarette and raising his eyebrows at her. When she nodded, he passed it over to her and lit another one for himself. "I've always admired your ability to just pick up and drop bad habits with a snap of your fingers. Anyway, what if you were to go to Vince and ask him to ban every single person from ringside. Because you're so confident that you could beat me."

"Sure," she said brightly, blowing out a lungful of smoke towards him. He smirked and waved it away. "If you want him to think that I'm a complete fucking idiot! No way in hell would he fall for that. You said it yourself: he knows that you're stronger than me."

The heir apparent sighed, running a hand through his short hair. "Yes, I did say that. But it's a street fight. Everything's legal, and if you come out armed with a chair or something...he's going to know that I don't want to hurt my own sister. And I'll say as much at the RAW after tomorrow. Yes, I'm going to knock you out with a steel chair, but that's to keep you from interfering. And I can very easily say that I felt absolutely horrible for it, I'm very sorry, and that you and I could still work together. You kick me in the nuts again, maybe rough me up a bit in the ring, and all the groundwork is laid."

"Dad isn't that stupid," she said, shaking her head.

"I'm beginning to think he is," he shot back quickly. "No, you're right. He's not stupid, but I think that we can work it out. Besides, it'll make me look even more sympathetic, apologizing to my baby sister about hitting her, and then you coming out and kicking the crap out of me when I say that I'm sorry. Vince will believe it, trust me. I've been around him enough in the past to know this."

For the first time in a handful of years, Shane saw his tough baby sister turn into a child again. She widened her dark blue eyes, so much like their mother's, biting her bottom lip. It struck him how much she really looked like a McMahon, and how no one had been able to make the connection before she took off her mask. Granted, she had dyed her hair when her natural color was close to that of Stephanie's, and she had the same eyes as her sister, but the roundness of the face, the full cheeks, made it seem at times like he was looking into a mirror and seeing the female version of himself. And now she shook her head, a lock of brown hair falling over one eye, her lip still in her teeth. "I don't want to hurt you, Shane, and I know what happens in a street fight. And after seeing how many times you kicked out when Kurt thought he'd completely knocked you out at King of the Ring-"

"That was completely instinct. I didn't even know where I was," he confided, giving her a tiny smile. "All I knew was that my shoulders were down, and that's never good. If I were in my right mind, I would've just stayed down and taken the loss. But no, I got my shoulder up and had to continue the damned thing. Kurt looked like he was going to cry when the referee shook his head. But anyway, if it were to come down to it, I would take the pin fall for you. I mean, obviously, you wouldn't roll me up or anything, you'd have to knock me out, but you'd get the win."

She shook her head and butted out the cigarette in her hand, despite only taking a few puffs of it. It was a habit that she really didn't feel like picking up again, especially now that she was in the business. For the past three years, she had prided herself on being somewhat fit. "I don't know. I'll talk to Eric tomorrow and see what he thinks about it. I'd like to know his opinion, anyway. Never thought I'd say this, but he really is a nice guy. Who knew?" She shrugged and stood up, before draining her glass of wine. "I'm going to go to bed. Are you sure you want to sleep on the couch? Because I don't mind."

He waved a hand towards her, emptying his own glass. "Nah, you take the bedroom. Besides, I'm going to be going back home after RAW tomorrow night, spend some time with Mom. She's worried about you, you know. She and I have a standing rule: no talking about business at home, so thankfully, she won't ask about what happens tomorrow." He smiled as she bent down and wrapped her arms around him from behind, kissing him on the cheek. "Go to bed, little girl. You need your rest."

"Don't call me that," she said as she pulled away from him, walking towards the darkened living room. He heard her curse when she tripped into something, most likely the footstool that he used as a space to stack newspapers, before disappearing into the bedroom. Shane sighed, put out his cigarette and lit a new one, pouring another glass of wine in the dark room.

He didn't like what was happening to his family, but he always knew that there was no way around what they were doing. He just wished that he hadn't had to involve the youngest kid in everything. It wasn't like she had any illusions about their father, so it wasn't like he was shattering her view of the world, but he didn't like the tug of war and duplicity that she was forced to enter into. He had always been protective of his sisters, even when neither of them wanted his protection, and both of them had come to thank him as they grew older. He knew that they were both adults, more than capable of taking things on themselves, but he still didn't like the idea of not being there to watch out of them.

And it looked like, unfortunately, he wouldn't be there for awhile after the next pay per view. He intended to get his ass handed to him by his baby sister, despite the blow to the ego that it would be. And if there was one thing everyone knew, it was that every member of the McMahon family had a hell of an ego.

That would be Vince's downfall.

* * *

She brought her hands up to rub her eyes and then thought twice about it when she remembered that she was fully made up for the show, thanks to Trish Stratus coming over to the apartment early and helping her with the makeup. It wasn't that she didn't know how to put it on, just that she wasn't accustomed to the new style she had adopted, in order to further the division between Shea McMahon and her wrestling persona, Myst. Instead, the woman settled on a yawn and tipped her head back against the couch, letting her eyes close. Despite the fact that she had gotten to bed somewhat early in the evening...well, earlier than she was used to, she hadn't slept well that night. It seemed that every time she closed her eyes, she saw Christian's face, and that look that he had given her backstage, that wounded look asking her what the hell she was thinking. 

Sometimes, she wondered that herself.

When Eric Bischoff walked into the room that they had turned into a makeshift office, and closed the door behind him, he had smiled at the sight of the young woman curled up on the couch, wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white sweater, her feet bare with her shoes tucked up against the couch. She sighed in her sleep and shifted so that she was leaning against the back of the couch a little more, his smile getting wider.

As horrible as it sounded, he didn't really look at Shea as if she were the attractive woman that she was. Oh, she was cute, he knew that. You had to be to make it in the business as a female, but she had endeared herself to him over the past six months of working with her, and even though in front of the cameras, they kissed and were expected to somewhat grope each other, she was like a little sister to him. He could understand how Shane's protective side could kick in around his sisters. After meeting both of them and spending so much time with them, he quickly discovered that the two women had an almost identical look, with their dark blue eyes looking at someone with trust and devotion, once they knew what side a person was on. He had found himself sucked in by both of those looks, and was constantly on the phone, back and forth with Stephanie as she finished up her messy divorce with Hunter Helmsley, and now, he found himself trying to calm Shea's fears of Christian completely hating her for what she was doing. Yeah, he could definitely see how Shane had seemed to make it a mission to keep his sisters from harm as best he could. It wasn't that the heir apparent didn't let the women learn their own mistakes, because he certainly did that, but when someone needed to step in, he was the first one there with a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, and a friendly voice.

He was somewhat jealous of the three kids, as he thought of them. Back when he had been in charge of WCW, it had been him and him alone. Yeah, there were the people that were higher on the food chain then him, and there were people that he personally picked to work backstage with him, but it wasn't the same. He didn't have the same support that the three siblings gave each other. And they were just like any other kids, really; Shane as the overprotective brother, Stephanie was the middle child who just wanted some attention from time to time, and Shea was the one who had been the darling of the family, and then turned around and screwed it all up. It was like they had been plucked right from the script of a television drama. Unfortunately, their real lives were filled with just as much drama, and most of what they did was broadcast on national television. Okay, so maybe he wasn't as jealous as he thought. He didn't have cameras stuck down his throat as much as those three did, Shea to a lesser extent.

He shrugged off his sports coat and laid it over the sleeping woman, watching as her fingers moved to grasp the edge of it and pull it tighter around herself. He'd have to remember from now on to bring a small blanket with him. He knew from years of experience that backstage at a lot of the arenas, it was cold and drafty outside of the locker rooms, and a sports coat wouldn't go far in trying to fight off the chill.

His head turned sharply when he heard a strange sound coming from Shea's purse, which was on the floor beside her shoes. He debated for a second, before digging through her bag, reminding himself to apologize to the sleeping girl, before he found the vibrating cell phone, looking down at the display to see who was calling her. Flipping it open, he held it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Eric, hi," the surprised, female voice said in return. "I could've sworn that I dialed Shea's number, but-"

"You did. She's asleep, though. Didn't want it to wake her up. What's up, Steph?"

Stephanie McMahon sighed on the other end. "Well, I just came back from dropping off some files in Daddy's office," she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. He chuckled as he realized what she was really doing: snooping around on his desk. Vince did have a habit of leaving paperwork out on his desk when he went away, something that Stephanie had learned at a very young age. "It seems that your call did the trick. Daddy had the contract drawn up and it's sitting on my desk. Shea versus Shane at the next pay per view, everyone banned from ringside, save for official WWE referees. I still don't know how you convinced him."

"He thinks that she's capable. Not only that, but he knows that she's a McMahon. Everyone knows that the McMahon family is known for playing dirty. No offense."

"Considering that's what we're doing at the moment? None taken," she said cheerfully enough. "How's the little brat holding up?"

Eric smiled when he heard the concern in her voice, despite the name she had called her sister. He turned around and leaned against the wall, turning his eyes to the sleeping woman again. "She's good. She's tough, Steph. I don't think you really have to worry about her too much. She's like a Timex. Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'. I'm surprised as to how well she's been doing, but I guess she's had three years of planning going into this."

"She'll surprise you," she said softly. He could just imagine the tall and pretty brunette sitting at her desk in her office, twisting the phone cord around her fingers. He knew that it was a nervous habit of hers, and had seen her do it on a few occasions, the movement never failing to soften his heart a little more towards the Billion Dollar Princess. She wasn't really as bad as everyone thought she was. She certainly wasn't the innocent little thing that had made her first appearance in the business, and she certainly wasn't the ball busting bitch she had appeared to be before she disappeared, but some nice comfortable mix of the two. "Just...keep an eye on her. Things will get tough for her, and she'll blow. I'm guessing it'll happen after the pay per view. According to Shane, she really doesn't want to fight him. She's too afraid that she's going to hurt him. I mean, she's been training religiously for three years now, with Edge and Christian, and he just got back into the gym to get ready for this match. She doesn't think that he'll have enough time to prepare for it."

He nodded slowly. "She's probably right. He's most likely going to get hurt. She has to make it look like she's going to knock him out cold, and how many little sisters actually want to do that to their older brother?"

"Oh, I could think of a few instances where we both felt that way," she said dryly, startling the man into laughing. "Shane can be overbearing at times, but his heart is always in the right place. Regardless, we like to think that we can be completely independent. I think people would be surprised if they knew just how much we depended on him. He's our rock, always has been. And I know that this isn't easy for him. Shane...he's different from me and Shea. We were the social butterflies of the family. There wasn't a time when we didn't have a whole gang of people around us. Well, not so much in the past three years for Shea, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

"Only Shane...he's never been that way. He picks his friends carefully, and when he does pick them, he's completely and utterly loyal to them, and just figures that they'll be the same towards him. They never are, and he just ends up hurting himself. Probably why he doesn't have any friends backstage there. He keeps to himself, puts on the facade of being Vince's son, so that he doesn't have to get close to anyone. But right now, I think he could probably use a friend or two. He's having to deal with all of this, and then Shea and I both leaning on him right now...I don't think he'll be able to take much more. And there's no one that he's really doing to let it all out, too. There's no one that he has besides the two of us."

He frowned. "Well, he should know that if he has to, I'm-"

She interrupted him quickly. "Don't get me wrong, Eric. He likes you, and if he doesn't already, pretty soon, he'll consider you a friend. But he's also afraid that whatever he says to you will eventually, accidentally or not, make its way to Shea. We both know that the two of you talk a lot, that's pretty much a given, considering the situation that we're all in. So, no, he won't talk to you about all of this. And he won't talk to me, because he knows that Shea and I have gotten really close lately, despite all of our past. Especially with what he's going to be doing to her."

His frown deepened somewhat. "What do you mean?"

"He's going to attack Daddy's new little princess, and some of the things that are going to come out aren't very flattering. Shea told him to feel free to use any of that stuff, and he's going to, but he really doesn't want to. Look, Shea's a good person, she really is, but when she was younger, she just wasn't thinking straight. And she did a lot of things that didn't look good. I don't know how much of her past you know, but it's pretty bad. And there are a few things that Daddy doesn't know about her that might make the light of day."

"Such as?"

Stephanie sighed, and when she began to talk again, he could hear the waver in her voice. "She was pregnant when she was fourteen. Shane gave her the money to pay for the abortion, and then beat the crap out of the guy. He was eighteen, knew what he was doing, didn't think that she would end up knocked up. But it didn't stop her. She still did some pretty nasty things afterwards. There were drugs, alcohol...she stole a car once. Great thing about being rich is that you can buy your way out of almost anything. She, um...she told Mom when Daddy was having an affair. That was a bad time. Shane's going to play it up, make it sound a lot worse than it really was, but they're both going to be hurt by everything. Hell, everyone is going to be hurt. I already promised Shane that I'm going to stay at home when he says those things. I moved back into Mom's, while I wait for the final divorce proceedings to end. She's going to take it really hard. But it's all meant to make Daddy like Shea even more. And it'll work."

"At the risk of hurting every single person in the family. Save for Vince, of course."

"Well, of course."

"What about you, Stephanie? How are you holding up through all of this?"

There was a pause, as if she had to think about it. "I'm doing okay. Lucky for me, I'm mainly in the background, right? So, it's not like I have the pressure that Shane and Shea have. I just think that it would muck things up too much if I showed up there. Too many McMahons in the kitchen, so to speak. And I'm perfectly content rifling through Daddy's garbage can to see what he's hiding. I wish that none of this had to happen, but, you know..." She trailed off, unsure of how to complete that thought.

Eric sighed, directing his eyes up towards the ceiling when it seemed like the woman curled up on the couch wasn't about to wake up. "Yeah, I know. And I know that you'll be there with your mom when all the shit hits the fan, but if you need someone to talk to, you know you can call me, right? I don't figure that I'm going to have my hands full with Shea that night. I have a pretty good idea of where she'll end up, and I'm going to have to do some planning to make sure she can go there."

"Christian?" she asked softly. "He's a good guy. I know. I feel sorry for some of the stuff that I put him and his brother through, but I couldn't think of a nicer, kinder person for Shea to be around. He'll be there for her when she needs him to be. He was there once for me, even though I was the enemy. I don't think he told anyone." Before Eric could question her further, she chuckled bitterly. "It was one of Hunter's many indiscretions backstage. She was a ring rat, and I accidentally walked in on it. They didn't know, but I took off, and Christian was the one that found me, crying my eyes out in a supply closet. He stayed with me until I was calm, and then escorted me to the bathroom to wash up, made sure I made it to my hotel all right. All that, and he couldn't stand me. Imagine what he'd do for someone he loves."

"And he loves her. It's pretty obvious. I have a feeling that between Jericho, Trish, and I, we can come up with a way to get Edge out of his hotel room, and give Shea time to go see him. I don't know how, but we'll work something out. Edge is taking it pretty hard. I guess he used to look at Shea like a little sister, and now that's she turned on him, he doesn't know what to do. He feels betrayed by her, according to Trish. He doesn't know how to handle the situation."

Stephanie was silent for so long, he thought for a moment that they had been disconnected, but she started to speak eventually, her voice small and quiet. "Hopefully, he'll understand. Hopefully, everyone will understand."

* * *

Shane groaned, rubbing his eyes before handing over another fifty dollar bill to the cameraman. "Look, I just want you to film this, okay? No questions asked. It'll be on tape delay, but it'll be shown. I just need you to film this and then get the hell out of here, okay?" The man nodded his agreement and Shane picked up the metal folding chair from the hallway, snapping it shut. "Good, follow me and turn your damned camera on." 

He stalked down the hallway, confident in the fact that the cameraman was following him close behind. Shane stopped in front of a door marked with both Eric and Shea's names, before opening it wide and stepping into the room. The woman looked up from where she was pulling on a tee shirt, her elbow pads already in place. "What the hell? You're not even supposed to be here tonight," she spat out when she saw Shane, her eyes flicking down to the chair in his hand. "Oh, you're gonna hit a poor, defenseless woman, huh?"

"No. I'm going to stop you from making a big mistake. You're going to interfere in the match to make sure that Lita becomes champion, aren't you?"

Shea crossed her arms under her breasts and cocked a hip out, looking down at the Hardy Boyz emblem on her shirt. "Whatever gave you that idea, brother dearest?" she asked. "Get the hell out of here before I call security and they take you out."

"No," he told her, shaking his head. "I don't think so."

It was over in a flash. He brought the chair up and swung it towards her. Shea tried to raise an arm in time, if only instinctively, but couldn't, as the metal chair bounced off her head. She slumped to the ground, her eyes closed, as Shane stood there for a moment, just looking down at her. He turned on his heel and took off, before giving the cameraman a dismissive gesture. Shane flicked one more look into the makeshift office and saw Shea open her eyes, and very slowly gave him a thumbs up to let him know that she was okay, as she pulled herself into a sitting position. With a nod of his head, he started down the hallway, running towards the curtain with the chair in his hand.

As planned, Shea's music began to play, and he stood at the curtain, catching his breath as he watched one of the monitors. Trish looked up, a disbelieving look on her face, and Lita, who had the woman by the hair, smirked and looked in the direction of the ramp. Almost instantly, the music was cut off, and the little scene that had taken place a minute ago began to play on the big screen, the crowd jumping to its feet and cheering when they saw Shea McMahon get knocked unconscious by her older brother. With everyone's attention on the screen, he took a deep breath and pushed past the curtain, holding the chair loosely in one hand.

The crowd, if possible, got louder when they noticed him.

Lita did as well, her eyes widening, and she mouthed a string of curses at him, as Trish stirred behind her and snaked an arm between the redhead's legs. Lita hit the mat hard as Trish rolled her up tightly, and the referee quickly fell to his knees, slamming his hand into the mat three times. He signaled for the bell as the blonde released the redhead, and Lilian Garcia raised the microphone to her mouth. "Your winner and _new_ WWE Women's Champion...Trish Stratus!" The crowd continued to cheer as Shane nodded his head and dropped the chair at his feet, turning on his heel to walk backstage again.

He supposed it was good that everything was going according to plan, but he wondered if maybe this was all a little too easy.


End file.
